


A Modest Kind of Hell

by americanbaekhyun



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Bottom Jeon Wonwoo, Explicit Sexual Content, Gen, Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu-centric, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Stripper Kim Mingyu, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Top Kim Mingyu, Wealthy Jeon Wonwoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-04-29 20:50:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14480955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanbaekhyun/pseuds/americanbaekhyun
Summary: Wonwoo is the son of a powerful CEO and has a beautiful girlfriend and perfect life.Mingyu is a high school dropout who strips to pay off his druggie father's bail.They say misery wants company, but sometimes company wants misery.





	1. Chapter 1

"Wonwoo!"

 

Wonwoo snapped his eyes open. He was in his dining room, sitting at the table. His parents sat on either end of the oak furniture and his girlfriend, Minatozaki Sana, across from him. He had fallen asleep at the table again, and his father was angry with him. Wonwoo couldn't recall what he had been talking about and knew this would only make his father angrier. "Suh-sorry. I had a long day."

 

"I don't care. Do you know what we were speaking of?" his father asked. Wonwoo shook his head lightly and forced himself to stare at his untouched food. He gripped his chopsticks with white knuckles under the table so his father could not see them. 

 

"Universities," his father said in a strict tone. "Although with listening skills like that, I doubt you'll get into any good ones. It is your last year of high school and you need to start applying. You'll be going to that private one in Seoul, the same one I went to."

 

Seoul. Wonwoo didn't want to go to Seoul University. He didn't want to go to college at all in fact. He wanted the travel, take some money one day from his father's bank account and fly to a city across the world like Ontario or Baltimore. He wanted to go somewhere his father's massive hotel empire didn't touch, somewhere where people didn't look at him and whisper, "isn't he going to take over the Jeon Corporation? He looks too stupid to do that!" or "I heard he's got terrible grades for someone of that status. A thousand won says they'll be bankrupt within a year.". However, Wonwoo was supposed to be his father's puppet, so he simply nodded.

 

"Your grades are atrocious," his father growled, throwing his metal chopsticks on the table beside the plate. His mother and Sana stopped eating in fear and surprise. "How can you live like this?! Knowing that this whole empire that I built from the ground will be yours in a few short years and the public has no confidence in you?!"

 

"Jeon. . ." his mother began, trailing off.

 

Jeon turned around and picked up the newspaper for this morning. _Bleak future for Jeon Corp!_ it read in big black Hangul. Wonwoo had seen it littered on the streets and didn't pick it up, hoping his father wouldn't see the headline. It was a story about him, the hopeless heir to the Jeon regime, with mediocre grades and an unattractive face. When his father was his age, he was handsome and charming, rich and smart, and had the public worshipping the ground he walked on. Wonwoo could barely greet someone without having them frown in distaste.

 

"Look at this headline!" His father shoved his finger at the characters. "How can you just stand by while letting titles like this run around?! The whole city thinks we're a fucking laughing stock because of my shitty eldest son! Oh, if Bohyuk could just be back here! He's younger than you but _he_ could run this company!"

 

Wonwoo nodded stiffly before taking a bite of his food. His father was losing his cool quickly, and he would eventually blow up at him. He was constantly reminded of his younger brother, Jeon Bohyuk, the better of the two in his father's eyes. Bohyuk was handsome and popular, but he was also studying abroad in America at a school that cost his father more money than most people make in a few years. Therefore, he wasn't around, leaving his disappointment of an older brother to deal with his angry father.

 

"You don't even care, do you?!" his father bellowed, standing up from his seat. Wonwoo saw out of the corner of his eye, Sana and his mother exiting the room. Years of his father getting angry had taught both of them when to leave so they wouldn't be collateral damage. The door closed quietly behind them.

 

His father walked towards Wonwoo in slow yet powerful steps. He threw the newspaper on the ground and stared at his son, who had shifted his slightly fearful gaze at him. "Is my company just some big joke to you?!" he yelled. 

 

"No, of course n-"

 

Suddenly, a searing pain across his cheek. His father had slapped him, hard. Wonwoo fought back the urge to reach up and touch his cheek or wipe the tears welling up in his eyes. He knew if he did, it would only make him hit him again and tell him to man up. Instead, he simply stared at the ground, swallowing the lump forming in his throat from the pain in his cheek.

 

"Now clean up your fucking act or just die! Get out!" his father screamed. Wonwoo wasted no time, pushing the chair out from under him and speed-walking away, feeling his dignity leave him with every step.

 

Once he closed the door upon leaving, he let the tears fall from his eyes. He cradled his cheek in a failed attempt to stop the searing pain or the swelling feeling of disappointment in his belly. He flew up the stairs, ignoring his mother, who was calling for him loudly. At the top of the penthouse, there was a balcony that he wasn't allowed to go on because the railing was not up to code but that never stopped him. He raced into his room, pulled down the ladder, and climbed it and arrived on the balcony.

 

The air was crisp and windy, the whole of Gangnam-gu still very much alive despite it being ten o'clock at night. The lights shined brightly and wind tossed his hair as he walked towards the railing and rested his elbows on it. His tie loosened a bit in the breeze yet still held firm in his white collared shirt that was his dinner outfit. Wonwoo wondered how easy it would be to just climb up over the railing. Only a step and he wouldn't have his father's burdens on his back, wouldn't have the public criticizing his every move. It would be so easy. . .

 

"I thought I might find you here. The ladder gives you away, every time." Wonwoo turned around to see Minatozaki Sana, his girlfriend. She was the daughter of a Japanese clothing designer, rich and destined for greatness. Wonwoo's father had arranged for them to be together due to Sana's social status, hoping it would bring more overseas popularity to his hotels, especially in Tokyo. Wonwoo had never felt any attraction to Sana - she was pretty, sure, but he never seemed to want to cuddle with her or kiss her. She had confessed her feelings for him a few months ago and he had politely declined, but they had put that behind them were still a couple when the media was concerned. 

 

She held an ice pack to Wonwoo's reddened cheek. "I'm sorry he treats you like that," she said in a quiet voice.

 

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Wonwoo replied, his voice muffled by the pressure of the ice pack. 

 

"I didn't see all of it."

 

"Yeah, but you saw some, and that's still too much. Is he still mad?" Wonwoo asked. He took the ice pack in his hand allowing for her to rest her hand at her side.

 

Sana bit her lower lip in anxiety. "Yuh-yeah. He's still locked up in the dining room. I think it's better that way though, so he won't hurt anyone." When Wonwoo didn't reply, Sana cleared her throat and changed the subject. "My flight back to Japan is tomorrow. I think your mom wants you to escort me to the airport for more publicity. I wish it didn't have to be this way."

 

"I'm sorry," Wonwoo said. Sometimes, he felt like apologizing for who he was was all he could do. He wished Sana hadn't been dragged into his life.

 

Sana shook her head. She stood next to him, resting her elbows on the railing like so. "You don't have to apologize, it's not your fault. My family wants me to do this as much as yours does, so we're in the same boat. In a way," she said with a small laugh.

 

"I wish I could love you, Sana," Wonwoo stated. Sana's eyes fell on him rather than the glistening city. She didn't say a word and allowed him to continue. "I don't know why. You're everything anyone could ever want in a girlfriend, you're sweet, pretty, funny, charming. . ." Wonwoo began to count off her desirable qualities on his fingers. "But I don't understand. It feels too. . ."

 

"Forced," Sana finished. "It's okay. I still love you though, Wonwoo. But I don't wanna make you love me behind the cameras. I don't want you to think you have to love me, alright? We're almost done with high school, we've still got a ton of life to live. So don't force yourself to love me. Love whoever you want to, just make sure they're worthy of it."

 

Wonwoo gave a small smile. Despite Korean being her second language, Sana still knew how to say just the right things. “Thank you,” Wonwoo said. Sana smiled a little and pushed some of his bangs out of his eyes before returning her gaze to the city below. 

 

“Are you going anywhere tonight?” Sana asked. She was referencing Wonwoo’s constant need to relieve his stress under the guise of the nighttime. Sometimes he went to friends’ homes to spend the night, sometimes to fancy restaurants to watch the customers and guess how much they were paying for their food. Sometimes he stayed at school to avoid coming home and sometimes he simply needed to stay on the balcony and watch the city from below.

 

“I don’t know,” Wonwoo said. 

 

“I’ve heard there’s a cheaper strip club on the other side of town. Away from here. Male though. I don’t know if you’re into that kind of thing, but if you are, I won’t tell.”

 

Wonwoo hesitated a bit. His stress-relieving only went so far, he didn’t want the press finding out about him going to strip clubs. He knew most of the people in the club would probably be drunk or indifferent to his presence, but it was still a risk he wasn’t sure if he was willing to take. Gangnam-gu had its fair share of clubs and nightlife but Wonwoo did his best to avoid it, it was bad publicity if a magazine headlined the front page with a picture of him snorting cocaine off a stripper’s flat stomach. “I don’t know about that. I’m trying to be. . . sparing with that. I don’t need someone from the press finding out about my going to clubs on my free time.”

 

“Fair enough. You know, if you ever want to come to Tokyo with me, you can get a nightlife without the press on your back. Japanese clubs are no joke,” Sana said with a laugh. Wonwoo knew she was trying to be funny, but he didn’t even smile. He wasn’t in the mood to smile. Sana cleared her throat in response to his silence. “Sorry. I know I shouldn’t joke like that.” She turned so she fully faced him and bowed deeply. “I’m going to excuse myself.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Wonwoo said. He wasn’t offended by her words, he was just tired. “Thank you for the ice pack. Will you wake me up tomorrow for your flight?”

 

“I leave at one. I don’t think you’ll need to wake up. If you aren’t awake though, I’ll wake you. Get enough sleep, Wonwoo,” she said as she began to descend the ladder. Wonwoo gave her a half-assed wave before returning his gaze to the glistening city.

 

He stayed up there for a few more hours although they felt like minutes as thoughts raced through his head. He thought about what Sana had said about going back to Tokyo with her. He’d only been to Tokyo a couple of times and his shitty Japanese did him no justice. He’d barely been able to communicate with Sana’s monolingual parents and needed to use her as a translator. He didn’t go anywhere other than a few upscale sushi places to eat. He wondered if he could truly have a nightlife successfully there without the press tracking his every move and reporting it to his father. He shook his head and cursed the thought aloud. 

 

\---

 

“Wonwoo, wake up.” Sana’s soft voice and gentle Korean. She was shaking him awake. The broad daylight shined in Wonwoo’s eyes. He had fallen asleep on the roof near the railing once again, lost in his thoughts and fears of his future, his life, and his father. Somehow, he’d slept through more than he thought he would.

 

“What time is it?” Wonwoo asked groggily.

 

“Little past nine,” Sana said. “We’ll be leaving soon. You know, it’s really not healthy for you to be sleeping on the roof all the time. I know you may be a little. . . fearful of the penthouse, but your father calmed down a little more after last night.”

 

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Wonwoo apologized quietly.

 

“Stop apologizing all the time,” Sana commanded forcefully. “You’ll never have a nightlife if you’re so apologetic.”

 

Wonwoo gave her a stiff nod, resisting the urge to apologize for being so apologetic. He followed her down the ladder into his room. She closed the door behind her, leaving him to change alone. He found a black turtleneck sweater and some dark navy jeans. He put them on before slinging his arms through a large overcoat that his father strongly approved of. He slipped on some of his most expensive and uncomfortable black oxfords before combing through his hair and dabbing some concealer on the mark on his cheek, now slightly redder and swollen.

 

“It’s time to go, Wonwoo,” Sana said softly from outside the door. Wonwoo noted how she was speaking in a softer tone, her accent seeping into her delicate words. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to speak the way she was or if she was just distraught from the events of the previous night. He hated how she’d been dragged into his family drama for no particular reason other than publicity.

 

“I’m coming,” Wonwoo said as he opened the door and followed her out. His parents were standing by the elevator, both looking rather unimpressed, especially his father. He stepped forward and examined Wonwoo, looking him up and down and raising an eyebrow. Then, he reached out, took Wonwoo’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned it slightly up and to the right so he could see the makeup covering it. He made a small noise of what Wonwoo hoped was approval and pressed the button on the elevator. It opened and with a bow, Sana led the way in while Wonwoo followed close on her heels. 

 

The elevator slid down smoothly but it felt like forever. No words were spoken nor looks exchanged. They stood a modest couple feet apart while Wonwoo stared at his feet and Sana at the door. When it opened, there was no one in the lobby of the apartment luckily. The last thing Wonwoo wanted was for paparazzi to mob them and accidentally rub off his lazily applied makeup. The limo was waiting outside with the driver next to it, the door opened for them as they stepped in. The driver knew where he was going due to communicating with Wonwoo’s parents prior to their arrival so there was no need for them to tell him. Wonwoo almost wished he would have to tell the driver just because he wanted something to break the silence between him and Sana.

 

Sana cleared her throat in the awkwardness and reached into the pocket of her magenta overcoat to pick up her phone and put her earbuds in. Wonwoo watched this motion out of the corner of his eye. One side of him was glad she’d blatantly blocked him out rather than avoiding the awkwardness and another side felt slightly offended; she was _trying_ to block him out. He shifted in his seat and stared out the window, wishing he had his own earbuds to block out the awkwardness. 

 

\---

 

It only took about an hour until the limo was parked outside the terminal, bustling with people on a Friday afternoon. The driver got out of his seat and walked around the car to open the door for them. Wonwoo exited first, followed by Sana. Now that they were in a more public place than the roof of the penthouse or a sushi bar in southern Tokyo, it was time to start acting a little more like a couple, despite the mutual awkwardness that had plagued them in the limo. Wonwoo held out his elbow for her to take and she did after wrapping her earbuds around her phone and slipping it in her pocket. Wonwoo was supposed to take her all the way to the roped-off area where her jet would be flying. Arms linked, they walked forward into the terminal. Sana checked her small luggage as a carry-on and they continued forward.

 

As they were walking past the security for the larger passenger planes, Wonwoo caught a glance of a tall man, looking to be about his age. He was waiting in a pair of worn-down jeans and collared blue polo shirt, the kind sold at knock-off stores. However, Wonwoo wasn’t even glancing at what he was wearing. He was looking at the man himself.

 

He was quite possibly the most beautiful man Wonwoo had seen, although his jet-black hair looked slightly out-of-place and he had a worried expression on his face. His golden skin glistened in the afternoon sun streaming through the window behind him, and he sat with one arm stretched across the top of the bench while the other one displayed his watch, a cheap one unlike the Rolex watch Wonwoo had on, and he seemed to be watching it intently. As Wonwoo walked by, captivated by the man’s beauty, he looked up and for a split second, their eyes met, his dark ones boring into Wonwoo’s. Then, as quickly as he had looked up, the man turned away, returning his focus to the watch on his wrist. Wonwoo cleared his throat before matching Sana’s pace—his focus on the man had slowed their pace. Considering their arms had been linked, this posed a minor problem.

 

Wonwoo shook the face of the man by the terminal from his mind and went through the security with Sana. They walked through the small terminal, them being two of very few people in it. Sana stopped by her terminal, gave a bow to the pilot and crew of three people, and turned to Wonwoo.

 

“Be careful, Wonwoo,” she said. “I’ll be back in a month or so. Don’t. . . go crazy or anything.” She reached up and cradled his hurt cheek tenderly. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” She leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to the hidden wound, maybe for the press that were surely hiding out somewhere or maybe because she was truly concerned for him. 

 

Wonwoo gave her a forced smile. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “I hope you arrive safely,” he told her in Japanese.

 

Sana smiled. “Thank you. Good luck, Wonwoo.” Her Japanese was very pretty to Wonwoo, the way she sounded out each syllable and the words rolled off her tongue. She bowed to the pilot once more before walking into the tunnel leading to the jet’s entrance.

 

Wonwoo watched her go with an intent gaze. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or sad she was gone—her presence put more pressure on both of them, but she also helped to keep his dad less violent—he wanted to make an impression on the girl who he hoped his son would marry. He knew Wonwoo didn’t love Sana and he didn’t care, he hoped for them to be married by twenty-two. They were only nineteen.

 

Once he felt satisfied enough, he turned around and began to walk down the terminal in the same direction they came. He had requested the limo driver just wait for him out by the entrance to the airport, so he wasn’t concerned with needing to wait. He passed by the small kiosks selling overpriced items and souvenirs for rich tourists and past the moving sidewalk until he was almost down the small ramp to the main entrance where he could see many people already congregating by security, trying to catch overseas flights.

 

Something else caught his eye, however. The man who he’d marveled at walking in with Sana was still there, sitting on the bench, his eyes fixated on his watch. He was certainly waiting for someone. 

 

“Do you need a ride?” Wonwoo asked in a quiet voice. 

 

At first, the man didn’t look up, as though he hadn’t heard him. Then, his eyes snapped upward, and he caught sight of Wonwoo standing in front of him. His jaw fell open in surprise. He definitely recognized Wonwoo, his face had been plastered on hundreds of newspapers depicting all sorts of bullshitted scandals. Or maybe, there was a possibility that he just knew about him through the eye contact they had made a half an hour earlier.

 

“Nuh—no, I don’t,” he said. His voice was like honey, all husky and raspy from lack of use. Deep down, Wonwoo enjoyed how he didn’t break eye contact as he was talking to him.

 

“Are you sure? You were here when I walked by a while ago. Are you waiting for someone?” Wonwoo asked. He desperately wanted to sit on the bench and listen to the stories the other man could tell, but he wasn’t sure how he would feel about that.

 

“Um, yeah. . . my dad, actually.” The man waved his hand as though dismissing his own words. “Thank you for your concern.” He gave a small bow, dipping his head in respect. Wonwoo did the same.

 

“When is he supposed to come?” Wonwoo asked.

 

“He was supposed to have come an hour ago,” the man said. “But I guess his flight must’ve been delayed or something.”

 

“I have a phone, do you want to call him?” 

 

“Um. . . could I?” the man responded. Wonwoo was taken aback—he expected the man to dismiss his offer and ask him to leave him alone. So, he reached in his overcoat pocket and took out his phone and handed it to the man. For a moment, the thought crossed his mind that he was going to take it and run, but he didn’t. He sat and dialed the number. It rang for a few minutes before going to voicemail.

 

“Guess he must be in the air,” the man said. “Must not get very good reception up there.” Wonwoo wondered if he was making a joke. If he was, he wasn’t laughing. The man handed the phone back to him and Wonwoo took it and slid it back into his pocket. 

 

“I’m Jeon Wonwoo,” Wonwoo said. He was speaking out of his ass, letting an attractive stranger know his name. But it wasn’t as if everyone in the city didn’t already know his name.

 

The stranger looked up at him. “Kim Mingyu,” he said. “I know who you are.”

 

Wonwoo smiled a bit. “Everyone in Seoul knows who I am. I wish they didn’t, though.”

 

Mingyu moved aside and Wonwoo took this as a gesture for him to sit down. “Why’s that? You’ve got everything you need. Was the girl walking in your girlfriend?”

 

“Yeah. She’s taking her flight back to Japan.”

 

“Sana, right? Minato—whatever, Japanese names are too long anyway. You have been dating for a while, right?”

 

“Yes, a while,” Wonwoo said. He was careful not to mention that their whole relationship was forged for publicity or that he truly didn’t love her. He wasn’t even remotely attracted to her.

 

But Mingyu had other plans. “Do you love her?”

 

Wonwoo hesitated. There was a slim possibility Mingyu worked for the press and was taking a different approach at getting information from him. He decided to answer in the best way he could. “In some ways.”

 

“Ah, that is a personal question. I’m sorry,” Mingyu said, dipping his head in respect.

 

“No need,” Wonwoo said. “I think I should be on my way, but. . .” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a loose Post-It note. Mingyu handed him a pen after he asked, and he wrote his number down. “If you need anything. . . you can call me. A ride or anything. Don’t sleep in airports, it’s dangerous,” Wonwoo warned. If Mingyu was the media, Wonwoo knew his father would probably paralyze him and move to Thailand, but he was willing to take that risk.

 

\---

 

Wonwoo arrived back in his penthouse and saw his mother lounging on the couch. She had a joint between her lips as she frequently did. Wonwoo took this as a sign that his father was out on business. He set his bag on the coffee table in front of her and turned to her.

 

“He will be back tomorrow afternoon,” his mother said. “Business in Shanghai.”

 

Wonwoo nodded and walked up to his room where he closed the door. He took off his overcoat and stuffed it on the crack in the door. He didn’t want to get stoned along with his mother. For a while, he just laid on his bed, drowning out the world in quiet, slow music coming from his cheap earbuds. He kept going through the events of the day over and over. . . but his mind always seemed to pause right as he met Mingyu. It was like a lost balloon flying upward until it got too close to the sun and popped all of a sudden. He tried his best to imagine Mingyu’s features, from the way his lips were perfectly symmetrical to the way his hair parted rather messily to reveal his forehead and gorgeously sloped eyebrows. He tried but failed. All he could remember was the way Mingyu had looked at him when they had first made eye contact.

 

Groaning, Wonwoo turned over. His stomach grumbled, he hadn’t eaten anything rather than yogurt and champagne in the limo on the way back to his penthouse. He wondered if it was worth it, going out to see his stoned mother just to grab a banana or some instant ramen. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but only fell asleep for a few minutes before his eyes snapped open, much to his dismay.

 

Just then, his mother’s words rang in his ear.

 

_”He will be back tomorrow afternoon.”_

 

Wonwoo could do anything tonight. He could go anywhere within reason because he wouldn’t be headlining when his father was out of town. He remembered what Sana had said about a male strip club and that she would keep quiet if he was into those things.

 

He was definitely into those things.

 

He unlocked his phone and searched up _Gangnam strip clubs_. It looked to be a little sketchier—on the outskirts of the district, near the projects. Crazy drug addicts, his father called them. Trailer dwellers, Wonwoo’s people said about them. Wonwoo didn’t have any complaints, they’d never done anything to him. Plus, it would mean there would be less media there, at this male strip club called _SVT_. 

 

“SVT,” Wonwoo murmured to himself. The name had a nice ring to it and he liked how the letters rolled off his tongue. He wasn’t sure what it stood for and he didn’t really want to know. He knew it would be cheap and out of the way of the media, and that was enough for him. 

 

\---

 

It was around ten when Wonwoo finished what he thought was his third movie. He hadn’t been paying much attention to it but rather anticipating the night he hoped to have, free of the burdens his father brought and free of the expectations he was supposed to meet. None of the guests would care that he was Jeon Wonwoo, they were just there for a good time and Wonwoo was no different. He wore the same jeans he’d worn to the airport but wore a casual white collared shirt, leaving the top two buttons opened. He didn’t try to tame his messy hair by gelling it down or combing it over and instead tried to push it over his forehead until only a small sliver of skin was present under the chestnut locks. He removed the overcoat stuffed in the crack of his door and opened it. His mother was passed out of the couch and he wasn’t worried—she was like this a lot when his father was gone. He took a velvety blanket and put it over her, threw the used joint away, and set a glass of wine down, should his father come home early. No father wanted a stoner wife.

 

With that, he turned around and left the penthouse. He had been careful to wear a little more makeup that usual, doing what he could to protect his identity. He hailed a cab for it was too risky to arrive in a limo to a second-rate strip club and was grateful the driver either didn't know who he was or didn't care. Wonwoo requested he go to the street of the club rather than the club itself as well. The cab driver dropped him off at the street and Wonwoo gave him a hefty tip and had a feeling he wouldn't go blabbering to the press that he had just dropped Jeon Wonwoo off at one of the sketchier, poorer parts of Seoul, in an area like the projects where prostitution and drugs were as common as the stars in the sky.

 

Wonwoo could see lights coming from down the street and a large group of people standing out front. He guessed it was SVT in all its glory, bright serenity lights flashing even from down the street. The houses he walked by were small and more spread apart, almost like a cheaper version of the suburbs. They were small with weak fences protecting them from the crime that frequently occurred in the neighborhood. Just a block down were the real projects - trailers surrounded by mud and edging the outskirts of the city. Wonwoo slipped his hands into his pocket. His shirt flashed an expensive brand and the way his hair and makeup was styled all screamed _privileged!_. He reached up and ruffled his hair a bit before slipping his hand into his pocket again.

 

SVT did not have the best security, as Wonwoo would soon learn. He didn't even need to bring out his ID, they just looked him up and down and let him in. _Is this for real?_ , he wondered, but decided not to question it, as his ID said his real name - and the fact that he was a little young to be in a strip club at eleven o'clock on a Friday night. 

 

The club was not too ugly either. He didn't need to pay too much to get in, but he still saw a large bar in the corner and various tables, chairs, and even a couch positioned in front of a large stage that curved around in a sharp semi-circle. On either side of the stage, there were poles extending from the stage up into the high ceiling. The club was painted a mix of dark purple and black while purple lights illuminated the men on stage.

 

Wonwoo took notice of them instantly, the men. Women crowded around it, desperate to get just a touch of their rippling muscles and sweaty, tanned skin. They reminded Wonwoo of the Greek gods he had learned about in primary school, said to be sexy and alluring and make mortals go crazy over them. He watched as they moved and swayed effortlessly across the stage. Two of them had their tongues in each other's mouths, making out while women swooned over them. Sweat-soaked hair clung to his forehead as one of the men bit his lower lip to suppress what Wonwoo thought might have been a moan or gasp. He swallowed quickly upon noticing how into it they were getting.

 

"Do you want a drink?"

 

Wonwoo turned around to see a tall man with a handsome face and a pointed nose. "A drink? Why?"

 

The man's face broke into an electric smile that went to his eyes. "Whaddaya mean "why"? You're in a strip club at eleven at night, everyone's drunk here!" It was once the man stopped laughing did he notice something a little strange. "Huh. . . hey, aren't you that Jeon kid? The one who's always getting into scandals? Son of the hotshot entrepreneur? 'Cause you look an awful lot like that kid on the front page 24/7."

 

"Um. . . who wants to know?" Wonwoo asked hesitantly.

 

Once again, the man smiled happily. "Lee Seokmin. Bartender here at SVT, avid enjoyer of the men." He held out his hand with a grin. Wonwoo somehow felt gravitated towards his cheerful personality.

 

He shook his hand and bowed towards Seokmin. "Jeon Wonwoo."

 

"Ah! Wonwoo, that's the name. See, I only really learned "Jeon", but I knew I saw your face somewhere."

 

"Duh-don't tell anyone I'm here. My father would blow up," Wonwoo said sheepishly. He turned his gaze back to the men on stage. They seemed to be getting into it, with their black ties clinging to sweaty, shirtless chests and hooded, lustful gazes. Just then, a man entered the stage through the middle entrance, causing a flurry of women to shriek in excitement. Electricity soared through Wonwoo's veins as he watched the man begin to dance. He turned to Seokmin instantly. "Seokmin, you said you liked the dancers." When Seokmin nodded, captivated by the man on stage, Wonwoo continued. "Who's the guy that just came on?"

 

Seokmin smiled, but it was more of a smirk than his previous cheerful smiles. "That guy? The star of the show himself, Kim Mingyu."


	2. Chapter 2

Wonwoo was fascinated by Mingyu's movements. Every time he swayed or grinded, Wonwoo felt enthralled and ignored all else going on within the club. The servers, most of them dressed in tight leather pants with black ties cascading down their bare chests, asked him numerously about having a drink or something, but Wonwoo either declined or ignored them. He felt drunk enough just watching Mingyu dance. He wondered why Mingyu didn't have an alias or stripper name he went under - or maybe he did and Seokmin had just decided not to tell him.

 

Wonwoo sat in the back, shielded by the poles and dancing men and shadow of the stage. Seokmin came by every couple of minutes to check on him for reasons left unclear. Wonwoo wondered if it was because he was being treated as a VIP as he usually was in public places or if it was just because Seokmin was being a nice guy. Either way, he didn't know, nor cared that much. As long as he got to watch Mingyu dancing, he was okay. 

 

He took a short bathroom break when Mingyu got off the stage, he had been holding it in. It wasn't that he didn't want to go, it was just that he hadn't really felt himself needing to go. He was too focused on Mingyu. He walked to the back and into the bathroom.

 

"Wuh. . . Wonwoo?" Wonwoo turned around to see the man he had been watching all night, Mingyu. "What're you doing here? This hardly looks like it's your scene."

 

"I um. . . needed a night out," Wonwoo explained rather shyly. "Sometimes I can't contain myself and need to go somewhere away from my house." He was careful in avoiding the word _penthouse_.

 

"A night out, eh?" Mingyu's eyes turned up a little at this, a smirk playing at his lips. "How did you find a backwoods club like this one?"

 

"My girlfriend, actually," Wonwoo explained. He didn't really want to tell Mingyu that he'd searched up the club on his own time after Sana had only suggested _any_ strip club.

 

"Your girlfriend? That Japanese girl?" Wonwoo nodded at this. "She's very pretty."

 

"She is," Wonwoo agreed. He wasn't sure what Mingyu would think if he told him that he didn't truly love her as a boyfriend should love his girlfriend.

 

"How old are you, Wonwoo?" Mingyu asked. "You don't have to answer, I know that is pretty personal, but the last time you were on the page, they said you were only in your late teens. I remember thinking that you were my age and I thought that was a bit strange. That you had so much waiting for you and I had. . . not as much." Wonwoo wanted to ask about this but he decided against it and just answered that he was nineteen.

 

"Me too, nineteen," Mingyu said.

 

"A nineteen-year-old stripping already?" Wonwoo asked in a joking tone. "I don't know many."

 

Mingyu gave a halfhearted smile. "Yeah well. That's just how it is for me."

 

"What do you mean?" Wonwoo asked quietly. Just then, he remembered something. "Mingyu. . . how is your dad? Did he have a safe flight?"

 

Mingyu's eyes darted around anxiously. "I uh, I gotta go back. I'll wave to you on stage, Wonwoo." 

 

Wonwoo wasn't sure if this was something sexual or not, he didn't speak stripper but by the tone of Mingyu's voice, he decided it was probably exactly as it sounded. Wonwoo gave him a bow before he exited and followed en suite. It was only after Mingyu left did Wonwoo realize how lovely Mingyu's bare skin looked in the light, like golden honey as the sweat glistened on it. In the bathroom light, it had been a bit harder to notice but now that the eyes of the club were on him, his skin glowed and just made Wonwoo twice as captivated in him.

 

"You looked whipped for our Mingyu if I've ever seen someone."

 

Wonwoo turned around to see a short, handsome man with dark hair swept over to reveal his forehead. He was wearing a lazily-buttoned black shirt and leather pants similar to those of the dancers. A pair of spectacles complimented his face nicely. "I'm sorry, have we met?" he asked politely.

 

The man shook his head. "No, we haven't met personally but I know who you are. From all those papers. You're Jeon's kid, aren't you? I'm Lee Jihoon, my father owns this establishment."

 

"Your. . . father?" Wonwoo asked. Everything was coming at him so fast, he'd already met the owner's son, the "star of the show", and the bartender. "Yes, Wonwoo," Wonwoo said quietly and Jihoon nodded. 

 

"May I ask why you're here? I wouldn't think it's very good for the press. . . to catch you at a strip club in this part of town," Jihoon said, resting his elbows on Wonwoo's table next to him. "I think it's kind of funny, actually. See, Seokminnie over there told me someone famous was here and I didn't believe it 'til he told me who it was. How did you even find this place? We're not on many newspapers and lots of critics like to avoid this part of town since it's so close to the projects. It really strikes me."

 

"My uh, girlfriend told me."

 

"Girlfriend?" Jihoon asked. "You mean you're into women? No offense or anything, but I've never encountered a straight man here once in my whole life. Maybe women with their straight male friends but no straight man alone. It's too looked down upon in these parts. I know it happens though. See them?" Jihoon pointed to the two strippers that had been kissing when Wonwoo had just arrived. "They're actually dating. It's not really a big deal in this place 'cause people think it's just for fanservice. At first, it was but then they eventually fell for each other." Jihoon bit his lip. "I'm sorry, I've said too much. Please just forget about it."

 

"Don't worry, if my father found out I was anywhere near these parts, he'd paralyze me from the waist down, let alone a strip club. . ." Wonwoo's voice trailed off before he shook the thought from his mind. 

 

"Anyways. . . it looks like you've taken a liking to our Mingyu. Is that true?" Jihoon asked. His voice was lighter and more playful. He definitely knew it was true, he just wanted to hear it from Wonwoo's mouth.

 

Wonwoo felt the heat rising to his cheeks. Through his concealer, it wasn't obvious that he was blushing but Wonwoo was pretty sure that Jihoon could tell. "I don't know if it's really a liking though. I mean, I had to take my girlfriend to the airport earlier and Mingyu was there. I didn't really think twice but after I was walking back alone, he was still there and I just. . . he looked like he was waiting for someone. His dad, I learned."

 

"His dad," Jihoon repeated in a quiet voice. "That's um, a sore subject. It's also one that's not for me to discuss. Sometimes I ramble a bit, but I shouldn't talk about that. That's Mingyu's story to tell if he trusts you enough."

 

"Trusts me?"

 

Jihoon nodded. "Mingyu's family life. . . he only discusses it with people he really trusts and appreciates. Right now, only a few people know about it including me, and I know not to talk about it. I'm sorry, Wonwoo. I'm sure he'll come around if you really try. I'm sure you can get him to talk."

 

"I don't wanna pressure him," Wonwoo said quietly. He wasn't sure if Jihoon could've heard him over the loud music and booming bass, but he figured it was better that way. "I bet he doesn't tell people that kind of stuff for a reason. I know I have things that I wouldn't just tell anyone and I'm sure you do too."

 

"You're right, Jeon."

 

Wonwoo cringed. His father was called Jeon and Jeon alone, he didn't want to be reminded of him. God forbid he had come back from Shanghai early and realized Wonwoo was missing - living his life in a backwoods strip club in the projects. "Please. Jeon is my father. Just call me Wonwoo."

 

"Sorry about that, I just thought. . ." Jihoon trailed off, his eyes falling back on the dancers on the stage. "I'm sorry this isn't a gentleman's club. You could've taken Mingyu into a booth and had him do a private dance for you. We don't do that, not here. It's too dangerous and expensive."

 

Once again, Wonwoo caught himself blushing. He was grateful that under the flashing lights, Jihoon wouldn't be able to see. "Duh-don't say that. I'm not like that. I've never been to a real gentleman's club anyway. I'm fine just. . . here. Here is good."

 

Jihoon smiled. "Well, the club closes around 2:45 AM so you're free to stay as long as you'd like. Do you want a drink or anything?"

 

Wonwoo shook his head lightly. "No thank you." He clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on the table. During the conversation, he'd missed many dances and the screams and shouts of the women had left him constantly wondering what was happening on stage. He watched as Mingyu grinded another dancer, biting his lower lip seductively. Cash was flying up all over the stage, but Mingyu was unfazed and continued moving. At old high school parties, Wonwoo had watched couples grind and thought of it as dirty and indecent to do in public, but this was different. Mingyu's skin glistened, his face glowed and his muscles rippled. Wonwoo never thought that grinding could be so beautiful. 

 

"I see you're pretty preoccupied," Jihoon stated, staring at Wonwoo as he watched Mingyu. "Enjoy the rest of your night, Wonwoo." 

 

Wonwoo didn't hear him until he was gone, it was as though Mingyu had slowed down all time and sound moved at a different speed. All Wonwoo could see was Mingyu, the shadows of the screaming women appeared as though they were in his peripheral vision even though they were right in front of him. Mingyu's hands fell from the other dancer's hips and he began to fuck into the floor. And then, Mingyu turned his head again.

 

Wonwoo's eyes met Mingyu's, and for a second, Mingyu was the boy at the airport, the boy waiting for someone who might not even come. His eyes were soft although hidden by the mess of his sweaty black hair matted to his forehead. His eyes spoke words but in a different language. Wonwoo could speak three languages fluently but not the one in Mingyu's eyes. He desperately wanted to. Unlike at the airport, Mingyu didn't break eye contact and neither did Wonwoo. As Mingyu fucked into the floor, he kept his gaze on Wonwoo. The women didn't seem to notice or care, they kept throwing their money either way. Wonwoo continued to watch. He could've watched all night as Mingyu danced, no matter how dirty.

 

It was only after Seokmin approached him did Wonwoo break eye contact. Seokmin handed him a drink that he didn't ask for and Wonwoo thanked him with a sip that he shouldn't have taken. He wished he didn't have to break eye contact with Mingyu and in the moment, he hated Seokmin and he hated himself for it. Wonwoo turned to Seokmin abruptly. "When does Mingyu's shift end?"

 

Seokmin's eyes flickered. "Um. . . three, I think. Maybe he's going out a little earlier tonight though, I'm not really sure. Something to do with his family. I can ask him once he gets a break."

 

"I'll ask," Wonwoo said quickly. It wasn't supposed to sound dirty or perverted or anything, all Wonwoo wanted was to look into Mingyu's eyes again without anyone interrupting them.

 

"You can't, Mingyu will be in an "employees only" section. You won't be allowed back there," Seokmin stated.

 

"Can't you make an exception? Just this once?" Wonwoo asked. If he were truly his father's son in mind and body, he would've offered Seokmin a hundred thousand won and told him to keep quiet about this but he wasn't that sort of person. The last thing he wanted to be thought of was Jeon's son although that title was a given at birth. Instead, Wonwoo simply nodded with a sip of what he thought was vodka.

 

\--

 

He wasn't even slightly tipsy by the time 2:45 AM rolled around and it was closing time. All of the drinks Seokmin had fed him and he was still completely in control of himself. Wonwoo was impressed, he wasn't really one for alcohol and suspected himself to be a lightweight. 

 

The club was clearing out after much reluctance by the screaming women. Seokmin was cleaning out the dishes and speaking about the shift in a quiet tone to the other man working there, who Wonwoo would come to know as Seungkwan from the name Seokmin kept calling him. Seungkwan was a handsome man with cute cheeks and a kind gaze. Wonwoo would never have guessed he worked in a strip club bar, he would've thought he was a professor at a university or pediatric doctor.

 

"Ah yes, Mr. Jeon, I heard that you were here," Seungkwan said. "My name is Seungkwan, and I'm one of the bartenders. How was your night? Did you enjoy yourself?"

 

"Think he enjoyed our Mingyu a bit more," Seokmin said with a laugh. Wonwoo blushed.

 

"Yuh-yes, sir I did," Wonwoo said to Seungkwan rather than Seokmin. "Thank you for the experience."

 

Seungkwan smiled. "Our Mingyu, eh?" It was as though he had completely ignored everything Wonwoo had just said. "Well, he'll be out of the changing room soon. Sit tight. . . or actually, make yourself useful and help me wash down the countertop. Just wipe it down and I'll pay you in appreciation." Seungkwan mumbled something under his breath after that, but Wonwoo didn't catch it. He figured it had something to do with him already having enough money as it is, but Wonwoo wasn't going to say "no" to the younger man. He wiped down the countertops as best he could so Seungkwan would be happy.

 

"Hansol!" Seungkwan said once Wonwoo was finished the chore. Wonwoo turned around to see a sexy young man with chestnut-brown hair and immediately recognized him - he was one of the strippers. His eyes were more rounded and his nose a bit thinner to give him the look of a foreigner, so at first glance, Wonwoo thought he was of mixed race. It didn't matter though, he was still sexy as fuck on stage.

 

Hansol walked over to Seungkwan and pressed his lips to the bartender's. "Hiya, Seungkwannie. I got all my shit done back there so I'm ready to go when you are." Hansol turned his gaze to Wonwoo. "Huh. . . hey, you're Jeon's kid, aren't you? I saw you on the front page this morning!"

 

"Please call me Wonwoo," Wonwoo said politely, bowing to Hansol. If his father had seen him right now, bowing to a _stripper_ of all people, Wonwoo wouldn't be allowed in the house for a week.

 

Hansol bowed back slowly. It was obvious that he was taken aback that someone of Wonwoo's status had bowed to someone of his status. "Hansol. Nice to meet you, Mr. Wonwoo."

 

"Just Wonwoo please," Wonwoo said. He didn't like all the formalities, but it was inevitable that people of their social class would do that for the first time.

 

"Wuh-Wonwoo?" 

 

Wonwoo whirled around at the mention of his name to see Mingyu, all dressed and gorgeous in his plaid button-up shirt. 

 

"You waited for me?" Mingyu asked. Wonwoo didn't know what was in his tone, was that disbelief? It was only natural that Mingyu would be surprised but Wonwoo didn't understand how it didn't show in his voice.

 

"Yes," Wonwoo said, matter-of-factly. Then, he realized his tone was disrespectful and inhaled sharply. "I'm sorry."

 

Mingyu walked a couple steps closer to him. "Don't be sorry, it's really no problem. Want to take this outside?"

 

Wonwoo wasn't sure what "outside" would mean since the outside of the club at three in the morning wasn't necessarily the safest place to be but he nodded. He would be at Mingyu's mercy now, this was Mingyu's home. . . or at least he thought it was. Mingyu put his palm on Wonwoo's back as he led him outside and Wonwoo found this act strangely comforting. Once they were out in the air which reeked of pollutants and Mingyu removed his hand, Wonwoo felt strange. Like there was something missing from him, even though it hadn't even been there for very long in the first place.

 

"I don't want to sound rude, but why are you here?" Mingyu asked. "I'm sure Gangnam-gu has nicer clubs than this. Gentleman's clubs even."

 

"I needed a break from it," Wonwoo explained. "I, um. . . can't explain it here. Not with everyone watching." He turned his head to see Seokmin, Seungkwan, and Hansol watching them intently from the doorway.

 

"Right, um. . . I don't really wanna go back to my place, um. . ." Wonwoo could tell Mingyu was a bit anxious. Questions were threatening to spill out of him, so he asked one simple one.

 

"Do you have a car? I know a place."

 

Mingyu's lips turned up happily at this. "Yeah actually. It's around the back, we can go get it."

 

Avoiding the prying gazes of the three men still in the club, Wonwoo and Mingyu went out and got Mingyu's car - a cheap, beat-up Ford truck and Mingyu drove it out while Wonwoo was directing him.

 

Wonwoo was going to one of his father's hotels, an older one called Apego. It was one that Wonwoo particularly liked - it was old-fashioned and inviting and not too expensive. Sometimes, when his father was extra mad at him, Wonwoo would rent out a room for a few days before his father cooled down. He wasn't planning on renting out a room or anything for them but was hoping to go up to the roof. Rooves were Wonwoo's favorite parts of buildings because they helped calm him down. The view of the city made everything look so tiny and insignificant, and he knew that if he looked at tiny, insignificant things, eventually his problem would mimic that.

 

Mingyu parked the car and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Did you wanna. . . like, get a room or something? I mean, I'm all for one-night-stands but someone as famous as you. . . no offense but-"

 

"Not a one-night-stand, I was gonna take you to the roof. It's nicer up there and we can talk without being interrupted or spied on."

 

Mingyu nodded. "Is this. . . is this one owned by your-"

 

"Yes," Wonwoo said. He knew it was rude to interrupt Mingyu but he didn't care. He just wanted to be on the top of the world with him.

 

The elevator ride was longer than normal, and maybe it had to do with the fact that Wonwoo and Mingyu were there alone in the darkened space. Wonwoo had never felt claustrophobic, but he did then.

 

They got off the elevator in a single file line, a bit more awkward than Wonwoo had thought. Mingyu stood still, a few steps out, his eyes glued to the flashing lights and bustling cars, despite being only 3:45 AM. His hands were in the pockets of his jeans while the wind tossed up his loose plaid button-up shirt and feathery dark hair. It looked like he was marveling at the view.

 

"What's wrong?" Wonwoo asked, a few steps ahead of the taller man.

 

Mingyu motioned to the city in front of him. "Damn. . . I haven't been in the rich part of Seoul since my mom. . . I forgot about all of this. Wonwoo, you own this city. How lucky you are."

 

Wonwoo fiddled with his fingers nervously. "I um, wouldn't say I own it. My father does. What happened to your mom?"

 

Mingyu sighed a walked with Wonwoo to the edge where they folded their hands and rested their elbows on the railing. "God. . . I wish I knew. She's gone. She had Munchausen's but my dad and I didn't know about that until she was in the hospital. She, um, had to get surgery 'cause of all the drugs the put in her system. They didn't know she wasn't actually sick - she was pretending to have some cardiovascular disease by taking contraceptives 'cause they have similar symptoms and they operated on her. She had so many drugs and a surgery she didn't need so she need a ton of other ones to get rid of those medicines and shit. It cost us a fortune and she didn't contribute a penny."

 

"Did you have to. . . pay all of it?" Wonwoo asked. "By yourself?"

 

"No um, my dad's juh-job paid for it," Mingyu explained.

 

"Is he still working?"

 

Mingyu shrugged. "He was supposed to come home from the airport this afternoon. Christ, he could be dead in a plane crash or worse. His line of work is very. . . risky."

 

"Risky how?" Wonwoo asked and then cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, that's a personal question. You don't have to answer it if you don't want to."

 

Mingyu turned his gaze away from the city and to Wonwoo. Wonwoo felt his eyes on him but tried not to meet his gaze. Of course, he couldn't last and eventually stared back into Mingyu's beautiful eyes. "It's okay," Mingyu said in a quiet voice, barely above a whisper. I want to tell. I need someone to tell."

 

 _Need?_ Thoughts flew through Wonwoo's head - mostly about what Jihoon had said about Mingyu being very shy about his family life. He wondered what had compelled Mingyu to spill his secretive family life to a man he'd met at an airport. 

 

So Mingyu did tell him. He told him about how his father worked in illegal narcotics dealings and said that if Wonwoo got his father arrested, he wouldn't care. Mingyu told him about how his father was supposed to be home from an overseas dealing to a cartel in Mexico but had not returned yet. He then told him about how he had taken a taxi home for fear of bothering Wonwoo with his necessity for a ride and found the police at his house. 

 

"They asked me my name," Mingyu said. "I said it, first and last and they said, "is your father Kim Jinho?" and I said yes and they told me he'd been arrested for possession and dealership of illegal substances."

 

"Will they give him a trial?" Wonwoo asked.

 

Mingyu shook his head. "The evidence was right there, in his hands. Plus, when they interrogated me in my own house, which I don't even know is legal, they told me he didn't deny it or anything. He just nodded and let them arrest him. So, I'm waiting for when or if his bail is set and I'm gonna bail him out. Wonwoo, I'm only nineteen. I'm barely a legal adult. I don't care if my dad deals drugs to keep us on our feet, I just need him with me. He didn't hurt me and he wasn't an alcoholic. He did what he could after my mom was discharged from the psych ward and left completely. I want him around. He's a good man."

 

"Do you know when his bail will be set?"

 

"Soon," Mingyu said. There was anticipation dripping from his voice. "I'm saving up, but I don't know."

 

Wonwoo stared at his hands over the city. "I mean no disrespect but. . . do you need any help? My family is very rich, I could get my hands on some cash to help you pay your bills and-"

 

"No help," Mingyu stated. "I appreciate the offer but it is politely declined. Thank you. It _does_ mean a lot."

 

Wonwoo gave him a small smile. "Anytime."

 

"So," Mingyu began. His tone had changed and it was a bit more playful rather than serious. "Tell me a little about you. That girl in the airport, you said she was your girlfriend? You guys have been together a long time."

 

Wonwoo could feel it bubbling up inside him, like water boiling over the pot. It was something he desperately wanted to get off his chest and since Mingyu had just laid out all his cards, he figured there was no better opportunity. "I don't love her."

 

Mingyu blinked. "What?"

 

"It's. . . it's staged for the cameras. She's beautiful, I'll say, but I've never been attracted to her."

 

"Never?" Mingyu asked quizzically. "Are you, you know, into women?"

 

Wonwoo glanced up at him with a playful smile.

 

Mingyu blushed visibly. "Come on, you have a beautiful girlfriend you're not attracted to, and you came to a _male_ strip club on your own time! That doesn't sound like something a _straight_ man would do."

 

"Honestly. . . I don't know at this point," Wonwoo said with a shaky voice. He hoped Mingyu didn't hear it, but he was sure he did. "I've been with Sana for so long and my father wants us married soon when we're in our early twenties. Before he retires and I take over the company. I'm nineteen. I don't wanna get married, at least not to her. It's not like she's rude or conceited or anything. She's actually a very likable person. I just don't. . . I don't know. I've never imagined actually kissing her for real. We've kissed before, but just for the cameras. I never felt anything when we did it for the first time and that's when I knew I would never love her. It's unrequited, really. She confessed to me a couple muh. . . I shouldn't say so much, I'm sorry."

 

"Can we try?" Mingyu asked bluntly.

 

It was Wonwoo's turn to be confused. "Try what?"

 

"Kissing. You said you didn't feel anything when you kissed her so maybe you'll feel something when you kiss me."

 

"We just met," Wonwoo blurted.

 

"You don't have to fall in love with me or anything." Mingyu laughed a little. "I'm a male stripper, Wonwoo. You really think you'd be the first guy I've kissed?"

 

Wonwoo felt anticipation bubble up in his stomach. "Okay, maybe just once, to try. Just a kiss. And don't tell anyone. If this got out, my father would seriously disown me."

 

Mingyu stepped closer to Wonwoo and rested his hand on the side of Wonwoo's neck, rubbing it ever-so-slightly with his thumb. "Promise. I kept my dad's secret for years, this is nothing."

 

Wonwoo nodded, and Mingyu leaned closer to him. Mingyu's other hand rested in Wonwoo's waist while Wonwoo brought Mingyu closer slowly. Wonwoo watched as Mingyu's eyes closed and he mimicked the motion. Mingyu's lips brushed against Wonwoo's for a brief second before he pulled away a mere couple of centimeters as if giving Wonwoo time to think.

 

Wonwoo didn't need much time. He felt something, more significant than anything he'd felt in all his kisses with Sana. He knew he liked Mingyu's lips against his, so he pushed his lips against them again. Mingyu did the same deepening the kiss until he slipped his tongue into Wonwoo's mouth, ever so sly. Wonwoo gasped a little but let Mingyu in. Wonwoo didn't realize how far they'd moved from the edge until he felt his back pressed against the wall near the door and he let out a breathless moan. It wasn't until Mingyu was trailing kisses down Wonwoo's neck did Wonwoo force Mingyu off of him.

 

"What's wrong? Was that too far? I'm sorry, I-"

 

"It's nothing against you, truly," Wonwoo said. "I just. . . in the elevator, you said you were all for one-night-stands and I. . . I don't want to be another one."

 

Mingyu smiled and pressed his lips to Wonwoo's forehead. "I wasn't planning on having sex with you tonight, Wonwoo. I. . . when you kept kissing me, I thought it was 'cause you didn't feel anything and. . . I dunno, you wanted to. So did you end up feeling anything? Be honest. I'm not a bad kisser, am I?"

 

Wonwoo looked up at him with a stoic gaze, yet he could feel his eyes being softer towards Mingyu rather than sharp and uninterested. "I did. I felt a lot of things. Thank you for that, Mingyu."

 

"You're not leaving, are you? You told me about Sana but not about your father and you talked about him. That got me curious. I told you about my father now you gotta tell me about yours. It's only fair, this is a democracy."

 

Wonwoo chuckled and walked back over to the edge of the railing where Mingyu had stood. "Okay. Well, um, my father. . . he's very in touch with his business. I have a younger brother that he likes better 'cause he's smarter, but he's studying abroad in America. Won't be back til my father retires and he can't run a company overseas. My mother is a stoner, I'll just say that. My father doesn't know that 'cause he's always in business meetings like right now he's in Shanghai. But when he comes back. . . he's always very angry."

 

"Does he. . . like, beat you and stuff?" Mingyu asked, clearly uncomfortable.

 

Wonwoo preferred not to verbally answer that question. Instead, he took Mingyu's hand in his, brought it up to his cheek, and wiped off the cheap concealer with his finger. He watched as Mingyu stared in awe and fear as the concealer rubbed off his finger, showing a bright red streak.

 

"Holy fuck. . . I'm sorry, Wonwoo. Shit, I'm so sorry," Mingyu said quietly. He brought Wonwoo's hand in his to his lips and pressed them to the top of Wonwoo's hand with his eyes closed. "If you ever need anything. . . like somewhere to stay. . . I mean, I know you have a ton of hotels you can go to and this won't mean much, but you can always come to me. I'll protect you, Wonwoo."


	3. Chapter Three

Wonwoo awoke with a start. His hair was matted to his forehead with sweat and his voice was hoarse, perhaps from screaming. He had had a nightmare, or at least, he thought he did. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim morning light, he realized he was in a car. Mingyu’s car, that cheap pickup. He must’ve fallen asleep on the roof and Mingyu had carried him to his car where the front seat had been reclined down, along with the driver seat for Mingyu.

 

Mingyu was fast asleep. Wonwoo wondered how, he’d probably been yelling most of the night. He examined Mingyu’s features, how perfect he looked when he was sleeping. His long lashes came up and down as he breathed in even, steady breaths and his mouth was parted slightly to form a loose “O” shape. His arm was under his head for a makeshift pillow and he snored lightly. He looked beautiful.

 

His eyes fluttered open. “Wonwoo. . . were you watching me?” Even his morning voice was sexy.

 

Wonwoo flushed. “Nuh. . . no. Sorry, I just woke up.”

 

Mingyu chuckled. “It’s probably 6:30 AM. We slept for probably only three hours. Do you get night terrors?”

 

“Just nightmares,” Wonwoo explained.

 

“You were, like, screaming. Yelling. I thought you were having a seizure or something so I was about to call the ambulance but then. . .”

 

“But then?” Wonwoo asked and Mingyu paused.

 

“You uh, said my name. You said, “it’s okay, Mingyu will protect me”. It was kinda cute actually. You calmed down after that.”

 

Wonwoo ran his fingers through his hair. “God, I’m sorry. You must’ve gotten no sleep, then.”

 

“My shift doesn’t start until ten tonight. I’ll have plenty of time to get sleep during the day.” Mingyu smiled and propped his head up with his elbow so it was resting on his palm. “You shouldn’t be so apologetic. You’re never gonna have fun like that. You only live once, you know? So try a joint, mess around with some pretty American girl, hell, just kiss me again.”

 

Wonwoo swallowed. “Kiss you again?”

 

Mingyu cleared his throat. “It was only a suggestion, I don’t want you to think. . . are you apologetic about last night?”

 

“No,” Wonwoo said instantly. It wasn’t like he regretted it, he’d learned about Mingyu’s family life and said some interesting things of his own. Plus, how could he forget how Mingyu tasted and how his hands knew all the right places?

 

“Good,” Mingyu said. “Neither am I.” He rolled over on his back and folded his elbows up under his head and stared at the roof of the car. “Well?”

 

“Well what?”

 

“Are you just going to sit there or kiss me?”

 

Wonwoo didn’t say anything, didn’t respond. He sat up and leaned over Mingyu’s face, eyes scrutinizing every detail. Then, he pushed his lips to Mingyu’s. Mingyu kissed back as if he was anticipating it since they’d woken up. As they kissed, Mingyu began to sit up and reclined his chair upright so he could take Wonwoo in his lap. Wonwoo got the hint and swung his leg over Mingyu’s so he could straddle him. Mingyu slipped his tongue into Wonwoo’s mouth and Wonwoo gasped.

 

“You’re so. . . sexy, Wonwoo,” Mingyu murmured. They broke apart, Wonwoo’s eyes holding steady with Mingyu’s. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you last night.” 

 

“Neither could I. You’re such a good dancer, Mingyu. You should dance for me sometime.”

 

Mingyu leaned forward and kissed Wonwoo’s neck. “I should, shouldn’t I?”

 

Wonwoo closed his eyes, feeling Mingyu’s soft lips against his neck. He opened his mouth slightly as if to let out a gasp or moan, but nothing came out. He felt Mingyu leave a hickey on his lower collarbone, to which he gasped at. He reached up and tangled his fingers in Mingyu’s soft hair. “Muh. . . Mingyu. . .”

 

“Say my name again.”

 

“Mingyu, ah. . .” Wonwoo breathed. “I should get going. . .” Mingyu pulled away slowly.

 

“Ah, so soon? That’s bad luck, Wonwoo.”

 

“My father,” Wonwoo explained. “I’m sorry. He’s away in Shanghai for business but he’s coming back this afternoon.”

 

Mingyu began to button Wonwoo’s white shirt, which he had unbuttoned subconsciously while they were kissing. “Sorry about the hickey. You should tell me to stop next time, I—”

 

“No,” Wonwoo said. “If I can cover up my father slapping me on the cheek, I can cover up a hickey. Don’t be worried, Mingyu. Besides, I liked it.”

 

Mingyu didn’t look any less worried. Fear and concern danced in his dark eyes as he looked at Wonwoo. “Can you give me one before you leave?”

 

“What? What about your job?”

 

“Actually, it would be fitting, wouldn’t it? A stripper with hickeys.” He unbuttoned his shirt and Wonwoo’s breath hitched at his torso. “Anywhere. Please, Wonwoo.”

 

“Okay.” Wonwoo kissed Mingyu’s lips slowly before moving to his jaw and trailing kisses down his neck. He sucked on a small patch of skin, causing Mingyu to let out a gasp. Wonwoo didn’t know how much he would like the sounds Mingyu made as he made one, two, three hickeys. Eventually, Mingyu’s hands were in his hair, begging for more.

 

“Tuh. . . tell me you’ll be at SVT tonight,” Mingyu said breathlessly. “You have to be.”

 

“I need to see where my family will be tonight. My father works a lot and my mother. . . she’s not a threat. She’s a, um, stoner. My father doesn’t know about that though, so when she’s stoned, it means he’s out of town. A good sign, I guess. You have my number. Text me so I can text you and. . . I think I will get a taxi. Thank you, Mingyu. For everything. And please don’t worry about this,” he said, referencing the hickey. “I will cover it.”

 

So Wonwoo left him in the car, hair tangled, shirt barely buttoned, hickeys lining his collarbone, but satisfied. It was mutual, they both wanted to see each other again, wanted to kiss each other again. Wonwoo knew Mingyu wouldn’t leave until he got in a cab, so he hailed one quickly. It was 7:45 AM when the elevator opened to the Jeon penthouse.

 

His mother was still passed out on the couch, the stench of marijuana filling the room. His father would be home in a few hours, so Wonwoo opened the windows and made an attempt to spray air freshener around. Then, he ate a quiet breakfast and sat in the bar stools in the kitchen, trying to process what happened in the night.

 

“Wonwoo? Where were you?” Wonwoo’s mother asked. She was up, probably feeling awful.

 

“You’re not feeling well, stay on the couch,” Wonwoo replied. He opened a cabinet and poured out a few pills and got some ice water. He walked down and gave it to his mother. “Here. Take them. Dad will be home soon, you want to be feeling your best.”

 

“Is that a hickey?”

 

Adrenaline surged through his veins. He had been counting on her foggy vision and throbbing head to deter her from noticing it, but somehow, she had.

 

“Take your pills.”

 

“I’m not mad, Wonwoo. I know you left last night, I didn’t know where. I _do_ know you didn’t have that hickey before you left, so it’s not Sana’s. I know you don’t really have feelings for her either. I might be a little out-of-it, but I know. A mother always knows. What happened to you last night?”

 

Wonwoo didn’t respond.

 

“I won’t tell Jeon. You really think I am in the sort of position to tell him that? You could tell him about my marijuana, I know you know where I keep it.”

 

It was true—Wonwoo had stumbled upon her stash when he was eleven, kept cleverly in a small bag taped to the back of a painting. Wonwoo had been playing baseball in the house with Bohyuk and knocked down a painting that had been dear to his father. Bohyuk had run out of the penthouse in fear, but Wonwoo stayed and tried to put the painting back. He’d seen the bag but didn’t think it was weed until he caught his mom smoking it a few months later. She had been clever to select _that_ painting, it was Jeon’s favorite and there was no chance he would want it removed. “Okay,” Wonwoo began. “I, um. . . Sana told me about nightlife and I wanted to try it for myself. I met a girl and—”

 

“And it only escalated from there. I know one-night-stands, Wonwoo. Thank you for telling me,” his mother said. “Now go get some sleep, Jeon will be home soon.”

 

Wonwoo nodded and gave a small bow before going into his room and shutting the door. He was about to close his eyes when he felt his phone buzz.

 

_Unknown Number: did you get home alright?_

_Unknown Number: this is mingyu, by the way._

 

Wonwoo smiled to himself before typing back a message and adding Mingyu as a contact.

 

_wonwoo: yes, i did. thank you for texting._

_mingyu: okay good. i bet you’re tired, get some sleep. text me about svt when you get the chance to._

_wonwoo: got it, thank you._

 

Wonwoo shut his phone off and tried to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Mingyu, looking at him with concern and care. He wanted to somehow tell Mingyu that everything was going to be okay. He would go to SVT tonight. He had too, not just for Mingyu but for himself. 

 

\---

 

The covers were tangled in Wonwoo’s legs. His heart was pounding and his skin sweaty. However, his throat was burning, so he hadn’t been screaming. He wasn’t sure if he’d had a nightmare or not, either way, he needed to get up.

 

He got up and walked over to his bathroom groggily. A quick glance at the plain analog clock on the wall told him it was 3:45 PM. He’d slept way longer than he’d hoped, almost the entire day. His father was bound to be home, so he shut the bathroom door and locked it. Then, he examined the hickey Mingyu had left.

 

It was small, no way it would be a nuisance in the future. Easy to cover up, Wonwoo realized. A purplish-red color. Wonwoo closed his eyes and remembered the feeling he had when Mingyu had his lips to his neck and hands on his hips. He opened them sharply and dabbed the concealer on, covering it up. He was no stranger to concealer.

 

After a few tests to make sure the concealer would hold strong, Wonwoo left his room. His mother was preparing dinner in the kitchen. She was dressed in a long maroon dress and her hair was tied in an elegant bun. “Ah, you’re awake. There’s a gala event we will be attending tonight.”

 

“Yes, there will be a very rich family hoping to sell their hotel there, so you will be on your best behavior.” His father came up behind him, dressed in a tuxedo. 

 

“Forgive me, but I don’t usually come to these events,” Wonwoo said quietly. “I might not be able to charm the guests.”

 

“You’ll have to because you’re taking over the company soon. Get dressed, we’re leaving soon. We’re taking the helicopter, so be ready.”

 

“Yes sir,” Wonwoo said with a bow before escaping back to his room. He was beginning to accept that he may not be able to go to SVT as he tied his tie and straightened his blazer. He sent a quick text to Mingyu before applying a bit more concealer and sticking the rest in his pocket. Before long, he was sitting in the backseat of his family helicopter as Yang, the pilot, flew them to where Wonwoo would learn would be Pangyo-dong. It landed in a grassy field overlooking a large hotel with a modern exterior.

 

“Who owns this?” Wonwoo asked.

 

“A rich American family,” Jeon explained. “They are thinking about selling it since they want to abandon an empire in South Korea and go back to LA. Your job is to convince them to sell them to us.”

 

“Got it,” Wonwoo responded. They were led through a beautiful lobby—prettier than any of Jeon’s hotels. There would be press there, Wonwoo was sure of it, and he wondered why his father hadn’t made Sana stay a bit longer for the gala. It was always good press to headline a picture of him with Sana on his arm.

 

After a short elevator ride, they arrived at the floor right below the penthouse—large and cleared out, obviously meant for galas and high-end events such as this. The floors were a clean tile and the lights were adorned with diamonds, not so much to be called chandeliers. There was a long buffet table near the other side of the room, overlooking the windows which served as a wall, and revealed the modern, suburban, high-class view of Pangyo-dong. 

 

“Where are they?” Wonwoo asked his father.

 

“Hell if I know,” Jeon answered. “Find them!”

 

When his father mentioned they were American, Wonwoo had begun searching for people with more Western features, but there was no one in the room. Eventually, he had resorted to listening in on conversations to find out where the family was. He didn’t even know their surname.

 

“And I think their son is quite handsome, isn’t he? Twenty years old and already reached a peak moment? Ah, we should really get an arranged marriage between him and our Chaeyoung. We’d get part of his empire too."

 

“Who is he?” Wonwoo asked suddenly, butting in on the conversation of two young women. They looked both surprised and disgusted. “Will you please tell me?”

 

“What is your name?” 

 

Wonwoo cleared his throat. “Juh—Jeon.”

 

“Jeon Wonwoo? You are the most capable person in this room of buying this hotel,” one of the women said.

 

 _Capable?_ Wonwoo wasn’t sure if they’d seen the headlines or just weren’t from Gangnam-gu, but he wasn’t going to correct them. “Yes ma’am,” Wonwoo said simply. “Please tell me where he is.”

 

She pointed across the room by the buffet table. Holding a glass of champagne was a young man, a little older than Wonwoo, and no doubt handsome. His dark hair was swept over his head and his facial features were very delicate, his eyes resembled those of a cat’s as he smiled at the man he was talking to. He was dressed in a white suit with a black tie. 

 

Wonwoo bowed to them both before moving quickly across the tile after taking a flute of champagne from one of the servers holding plates of the liquid. He took a small sip before walking over.

 

“Mr. Jeon, I was expecting you,” the man said.

 

Wonwoo blinked. “You. . . you know me? With all due respect, I do not believe we have met.”

 

The man took a sip of his champagne. “My name is Joshua Hong. My father owns this hotel.”

 

“You’re the American family who owns it?”

 

“Asian-American, yes.”

 

“How do you, um, know who I am? You haven’t seen the headlines, have you?”

 

Joshua laughed. “Petty newspapers like that don’t run here in Pangyo-dong. I don’t care much for reading them. I’m not the best at reading at Korean either way, so it’s not like I could if I wanted to. As for how I know you. . . I saw you.”

 

Wonwoo swallowed. “Saw me where?”

 

Wonwoo’s heart just about stopped upon Joshua’s next sentence. “Last night. I know where you were because I was there too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the slow updates, i had exams but am free now, so i will be writing more. thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Wonwoo nearly choked on his own saliva. He wished he hadn’t taken that sip of champagne, he thought he was about to do a spit-take. “Duh—did you just say you were where I was last night?”

 

“Yes, I’m a regular there. Whenever I’m near Seoul, I take my limo over to that side and use a taxi for the rest. Those days are numbered though. . . I’ll be in LA for most of my business life though. Seoul for pleasure though.” His words held some sort of hidden meaning that Wonwoo couldn’t decipher. He meant something else that was going completely over Wonwoo’s head. He cleared his throat before responding, still in shock of Joshua’s blunt nature.

 

“Should we talk about this somewhere else?” Wonwoo asked. “I don’t think our parents would be pleased if they heard us talking about this.” He sipped his champagne for effect, although Wonwoo didn’t particularly enjoy drinking champagne.

 

Joshua nodded. “I want some champagne first. Does it taste good?”

 

Wonwoo felt the taste bubbling on his tongue, like the feeling he got after eating sour candy. “If you like champagne, I’m sure it’s good.”

 

Joshua nodded. “I’ll be right back. Want a macaron? They’re amazing.”

 

Wonwoo had never eaten a macaron before and had to rack his brain for even a small image of one. He barely knew what they were. “Yes,” he said, just to humor Joshua. “Thank you.”

 

Joshua returned shortly later, a small plate presumably for them to share piled high with multicolored desserts resembling hamburgers. In his other hand, he held a full glass of champagne. “You ever have a macaron straight from France? My dad had these imported, they’re delicious.”

 

“No,” Wonwoo said. He decided to leave out the fact that he had never had a macaron in general. Joshua led him past various guests, men and women, who smiled and waved, told him to talk to them later or said a greeting in clearly rehearsed and broken English. Joshua seemed unfazed by the gestures, simply smiling and dipping his head in respect of raising his champagne glass while raising his eyebrow in flirtatiousness. Wonwoo knew there was a reason Joshua was so popular despite living and operating overseas—he had a likable personality. He was kindhearted and charismatic—the kind of person you loved to love. The kind of person you were proud of yourself for knowing.

 

Joshua sat down on a small bar chair with a long table overlooking the view. Wonwoo sat next to him slowly. Joshua set the plate down with a smile. “You’ve never had a macaron, have you? I know ‘cause you would’ve been more excited to know they were here. Everyone who’s ever tried one has liked it.”

 

Wonwoo took one and ate it, biting into the dessert almost tantalizingly slow. He didn’t realize Joshua was watching how his lips moved until he turned his head to the window, looking at the view below.

 

“So,” Joshua said as he cleared his throat. “I bet you got questions.”

 

“If you don’t mind,” Wonwoo began and when Joshua shook his head with a kind smile, he continued. “You said you were there. At SVT.” He made sure to lower his voice at the mention of the club. “Why?”

 

“I’m not in Seoul too often,” Joshua explained. “And when I am, it’s to sell some dumb property like so. No offense or anything—I know you wanna invest. Not my problem. Anyways, I wanted a club that I could. . . you know, not worry about the press. I’m sure you understand, paparazzi killing your relationship with the ones you love. And then I had a one-night-stand with one of the dancers a few years ago and we. . . actually kept in touch.”

 

Wonwoo took a long swig of the bitter champagne. Despite the unappealing taste, he found it growing on him. Or maybe that was the alcohol talking. “Believe me, I know.”

 

“So, that’s where my he works. Maybe you saw him last night, towards the end? He’s had knee problems, so he couldn’t dance that much ‘cause he doesn’t have enough to pay for surgery. The cartilage in his knee is weaker than most. He’s got acute degenerative arthritis. A quick surgery would fix that though since he’s so young and they can fix it. Of course, he can’t pay that kind of money and he’s too stubborn to accept charity from me,” Joshua explained. 

 

“What’s his name?” Wonwoo asked. “I met a couple of dancers when it closed, maybe I met him.” He hoped it wasn’t Hansol, Hansol obviously seemed to make heart-eyes for Seungkwan the bartender. If it was Mingyu. . .

 

“Jeonghan,” Joshua said, breaking Wonwoo’s steadily-panicking thoughts. “Did you meet him? Cute guy, kinda long-ish hair. Black, in a bob cut now, but that’ll change. He’s kinda. . . he acts like a smartass sometimes. He’s pretty likable when you get to know him though.”

 

“No, I didn’t meet him,” Wonwoo said.

 

“Why were you at the club?” Joshua asked. “I saw you, over in the corner. I knew who you were but I didn’t wanna say anything ‘cause I thought you might not know who I was and it would be awkward. Guess I was right, you really didn’t know who I was.”

 

“You could’ve introduced yourself.”

 

“Meh, doesn’t matter anymore.” Joshua sipped his champagne but kept his catlike eyes on Wonwoo. “There must be a reason. A guy, perhaps? Men like us don’t usually go there without a reason. I went for Jeonghan, who did you go for? I know the dancers, I’ll probably know him.”

 

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo said quietly. “I met him while I was dropping my girlfriend off—”

 

“You’re into women?” Joshua asked. “Damn, I wouldn’t’ve thought.”

 

“No! I mean—I don’t know. My girlfriend. . . nevermind. I’m not allowed to say that.” Wonwoo silenced himself by drinking his champagne.

 

“Okay. Well. . . should we go back? I’m sure you’d love to meet Jeonghannie. I’ve met Mingyu, he’s. . . he’s damn sexy, don’t tell Jeonghan I said that. I think the whole club is like an art museum—you can look but you can’t touch. With the exception of Jeonghan of course,” Joshua said with a wink.

 

Wonwoo swallowed and took another macaron. “Yeah, I guess.”

 

“Did you. . . did you screw around with Mingyu last night?” Joshua asked. “I know I met Jeonghan after SVT closed last night and Mingyu wasn’t there. He usually is.”

 

Wonwoo took a drink of champagne. “Define “screwed around”.”

 

Joshua smiled. “Like sex. Like having sex. Did you do it?”

 

“No, we didn’t.”

 

“You kissed though, didn’t you?”

 

“How could you tell?”

 

“You just got a little. . . how should I say it. . . anxious when I brought up sleeping with him. Maybe that or I can tell. It’s like a sixth sense,” Joshua said, pointing to his temple for emphasis. “Will you go tonight?”

 

“I don’t know. It depends on when _this_ ends.” Wonwoo gestured to the gala behind their backs. “I don’t think my parents would be very. . . supportive.”

 

Joshua drank his champagne, a stoic glare on his face. “Oh of course. I know how that feels. My dad thinks I’m going to a gentleman’s club when I leave. He doesn’t let me go to those in America ‘cause there’ll be more press covering me there, since I’m. . . a bit more known in LA. He tells me to go to let out my stress. He scares me sometimes. I shouldn’t repeat what he says about sex workers,” Joshua said with a feigned shudder. “It’s not very respectful.”

 

“It’s all relative, I suppose,” Wonwoo murmured. “My dad doesn’t like the clubs. He’s very conservative. I think we’re all in hell, even sex workers, just a different sort for everyone.”

 

“That’s very poetic,” Joshua said with a laugh. “What kind of hell are you in, Wonwoo? It’s not the same as Mingyu’s for sure.”

 

“No. I think we’re close. My hell is. . . more modest than his.”

 

Joshua laughed. “I’m Christian, Wonwoo. Hell is not modest in the Bible.”

 

“I’m an atheist.”

 

“Doesn’t matter, hell isn’t modest.”

 

“My father hits me til I bleed when I don’t get a perfect score on a test, yet still dresses me up in Givenchy when we go out,” Wonwoo responded, trying to block the anger dripping from his voice. “A modest hell, that’s what I’m in, that’s what you’re in too, I’m sure.”

 

Joshua eyed him before eating a macaron. “I suppose you’re right. Well Wonwoo, we should go. I can call a limo outside.”

 

Wonwoo nearly spit out his champagne. “Go? Now?”

 

“When else?”

 

“Um. . . maybe after this is over? My father wants the hotel and—”

 

“And he’ll get it, I promise,” Joshua said. “Don’t you wanna go clubbing with me, Wonwoo?”

 

Wonwoo could resist the idea when Joshua said it like that—voice dripping with lust and innuendo. Wonwoo knew Joshua had an idea for the night, and there was going to be alcohol and sex involved. Joshua Hong, the pure Christian American, was a ticking time bomb and he was exploding a little more every night. “Okay.”

 

Joshua took his hand. “Good. Now, you’re daddy wants to invest, right?”

 

Wonwoo nodded. 

 

“Then I’ll tell my dad I’ve made a decision.”

 

“This quickly? Won’t he think something is suspicious?” Wonwoo asked. “I mean, my dad has invested in tons of buildings, but to have the owner make a decision so quickly. . . it seems forced, like I’m blackmailing you or something.”

 

“No blackmail,” Joshua stated. “Just my decision. My dad said it was up to me, as long as he approved it. Besides, this is gonna be one of my last nights here in Korea—I want it to be worth it. You’ll make it worth it, won’t you, Wonwoo?”

 

Wonwoo nodded, swallowing his champagne. “Yes. I will tell my father the good news.” 

 

And it certainly was good news—Wonwoo’s dad didn’t let him see, but his face washed over with something Wonwoo hoped was relief. He had never seen the emotion as he inherited his stoic gaze from his father, but something told him this was positive. His dad told him to go home after and take a taxi because he would want the helicopter to stay, and Wonwoo bowed and obeyed. He had a feeling his father was going to be out a little longer though, perhaps drinking away his stress. He met Joshua by the elevator. The man had already begun to loosen his tie and his white blazer had disappeared. Wonwoo was surprised—if he had gotten this comfortable around people in a gala, he would’ve been slapped and reminded of his place.

 

“I see my dad is talking to yours, that’s a good sign,” Joshua said. “Are you ready to go? It’s 9:30, we should get going if we wanna be there for most of the night.”

 

“Yes.” Wonwoo placed his now-empty champagne glass on a high table near the elevator, confident the caterers would get it. They entered the elevator and Joshua shoved his hands in his pockets.

 

“Ah, times like these make me wish I had more time,” he said. “I’m leaving for LA in a few days and since I found the investor, the last few days are gonna be all business and no pleasure.”

 

“I’m sorry about that,” Wonwoo asked. After a bit of silence, he cleared his throat and spoke up. “Do you. . . are you still with Jeonghan when you are in LA? You have a long-distance relationship?”

 

“No,” Joshua said. “We’re um, what you would say a _fair-weather relationship_.”

 

“Is there a Korean term?” Wonwoo asked, clearly confused.

 

Joshua shrugged as the elevator doors opened with a _ding!_ “I don’t think so. We’re only dating when I’m in Korea and when I’m not. . . I don’t know what he does.”

 

“You’re on-and-off?” Wonwoo asked quietly. “How does that work? Is it just. . . is it just to let out your sexual frustrations?”

 

“No. We go on dates like a normal couple, but I know he’s got a life here in Seoul and I don’t wanna take him away from that. He likes parties and one-night-stands, he likes to meet people in clubs and works hard to make money for his little sister to go to college. He likes to make out in bathrooms and loves to try new desserts as long as they aren’t too expensive. He wants to shake hands with an idol one day and wants to go away from Seoul on a vacation.”

 

“So you know a lot about him,” Wonwoo murmured.

 

“Yeah. And I’m. . . I’m really gonna miss him. I never wanted to take him away from what he likes, so I don’t think about what he’s doing with other guys when I’m in LA. We’re just dating when I’m here, and it works that way. Long-distance relationships are never meant to last anyway.”

 

“Wow. Are you ever coming back to Seoul, do you think?”

 

“I don’t think so. I think my dad’s done with overseas real estate and I don’t know if I wanna get back in the game when I take over the company.”

 

They got into the taxi that had been waiting for them. It was going to be a long ride from Pangyo-dong to Gangnam-gu, and they were getting out at various stops so they wouldn’t have to pay as much. Besides, it was a beautiful night, not a cloud in the sky and a cool breeze that tossed up Wonwoo’s hair as Joshua rolled down the windows. 

 

“You’ll keep in touch, right? With Jeonghan?” Wonwoo asked.

 

A solemn look crossed Joshua’s face. “I don’t know. Probably not, I—”

 

“Do you love him?”

 

Joshua made eye contact with Wonwoo and then Wonwoo saw how the tears danced in his eyes, glistening in the moonlight. His brows were turned upward in sadness and his face was painted with regret. Anyone could tell just by this look that Joshua Hong loved him and was terrified by the idea that he would be leaving and never coming back—never seeing Jeonghan’s face again in person and maybe not even through a screen. 

 

“I, um. . .” Joshua wiped away his tears with his tie so they did not fall down his cheeks. “I don’t know. I’m afraid that. . . that I will only know the answer when I step foot in LAX and realize I may never fly back to Seoul. Only then will I know if I love him.”

 

“You never know what you have until it’s gone,” Wonwoo whispered to himself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve pried,” he said a bit louder.

 

Joshua waved a hand, dismissing his statement. “No, don’t worry about it. Besides, I need to do everything I wanna do with him now. Better do it now than regret not doing it later.”

 

Wonwoo smiled. “You’re right.” He suddenly felt a wave of sadness wash over him. It was as though an inconsolable fog had settled within the taxi and now it was too thick to see through. What if he was in Joshua’s position, a large chance he would never see Mingyu again? Wonwoo realized it was like torture—like terminal cancer patients who know the amount of time they have left to live and can do nothing but wait and try to pretend they are enjoying themselves and their final days. Joshua knew when he was leaving and probably never coming back—he could do nothing for himself other than live out these last few days as though he had scheduled his plane to crash over the Pacific Ocean and disappear forever. Pure torture.

 

\--

 

Their final taxi pulled up at the block at around 12 AM. Joshua had fallen asleep and Wonwoo had tried but their method of travel—walking a few blocks and then hailing a cab hadn’t let him. Instead, he watched the passing world outside the window and tried to ignore the feeling of drowsiness that he had induced from his nap when he came home from Apego with Mingyu.

 

“Joshua,” Wonwoo whispered, shaking him awake. “We’re here. Are you having second thoughts? If you’re tired, we don’t have to—”

 

“No, I’m not. I’m awake. I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Let’s go.”

 

They got out of the taxi after paying the cab driver and walked down the street. It was quiet, most of the people were asleep in the smaller, tightly-packed homes that lined the blocks. The lights of SVT were bright and loud music was blaring. There was a thin stream of people that told Wonwoo they might be waiting a bit to get in. The bouncers never checked IDs anyway, and Wonwoo was of legal adult age. Joshua was probably older than him, so age didn’t appear to be a problem.

 

“I’ll get us a spot in line,” Joshua said. “You go check to see who’s dancing, the bouncers might look at you twice, but don’t give them a hard time, they’re just trying to make money. Come back and describe them to me and maybe I can text the ones that aren’t working and they can get us in faster. Or better yet, just take a picture.”

 

“Why don’t you just do this?” Wonwoo asked. “You’ll recognize them instantly and it’ll just be less time.”

 

“I have. . . a bit of history with the bouncers. Long story short, they don’t really like me, so the less I have to be around them, the better,” Joshua explained. “Now go, quickly.”

 

Wonwoo nodded, not planning on prying into Joshua’s life any more than he already had. He walked past the line and glanced inside, swallowing his fear when the bouncers glared at him. There were a few dancers, none of them were Mingyu, but he did see who he thought was Jeonghan.

 

Wonwoo could only go off of Joshua’s description, but the man had a bob cut dyed black and out of all the dancers on the stage, he had the most clothes on. He was handsome, with tan skin that contrasted the bright white lights that went in many directions and a delicate face that looked like it did not belong in a strip club. His movements were less jarred than the others’ and flowier. More men gravitated towards him than women, although there were many more women in the club than men. He smiled at a few, causing girlish screams to erupt in the air. Wonwoo snapped a picture before returning to Joshua.

 

The other man examined the picture thoroughly. “Ah. Jeonghan, Junhui, Hansol, Minghao, Soonyoung, and Changkyun. Seungcheol must be managing the club tonight, they’re his favorite dancers. Don’t worry, I’m sure Mingyu is working, he might just be on a break. It’s exhausting dancing for hours. You get cramps.”

 

“I’m sure,” Wonwoo remarked. 

 

The line began to move, as more people crowded the club. Wonwoo had no idea this many people liked to attend a downtown strip club, but he guessed that since it was a Friday night, interest had spiked. Once the bouncers had reluctantly let Wonwoo and Joshua in, it was so loud and there were so many moving bodies that it felt like a nightclub. Wonwoo was sure Joshua was speaking to him, but he had no idea what he was saying. And then, Joshua was grabbing Wonwoo’s hand and leading him away from the noise and chaos. He led Wonwoo back, somewhere they were clearly not supposed to be, but the bouncer paid them no mind. Either that or he didn’t see them. He led him to a door, unlocked, and Wonwoo blinked a few times to get used to his new surroundings.

 

It was darker than the club, lit only by a few fluorescent lights on the ceiling. There were a few rooms with names written on the doors in English letters, and a few dancers were milling about, speaking to each other, reapplying makeup, or icing injured body parts. Wonwoo realized Joshua had taken him backstage.

 

“Joshua!” one of the strippers called with a smile on his face. He was a handsome man, like all the others, with a cute smile that extended to his eyes.

 

“Minhyuk!” Joshua said. “It’s been a while. You weren’t working last night.”

 

“Yeah, family issues,” the man, Minhyuk, said, scratching the back of his neck timidly. “I couldn’t come in. Had to get Mingyu to cover my shift.”

 

“It was no problem, really.”

 

Wonwoo turned instantly upon hearing his voice. _Mingyu’s_ voice. Mingyu was coming out of one of the rooms, his hair matted with sweat, signaling he’d been dancing long before Wonwoo and Joshua had arrived. His eyes flickered up to see Wonwoo and Joshua.

 

“Wonwoo! You made it!” Mingyu said with a smile. “But. . . how did you meet Joshua?”

 

“At a gala,” Wonwoo explained as Mingyu came closer to him. He ignored how his heart sped up a bit when he did. 

 

“Makes sense,” Mingyu murmured. “I thought you were going back to LA,” he said, turning to Joshua.

 

“I was. I still am, but I’m gonna live out these last few days here. I might not be coming back.”

 

“Good,” Mingyu said with a smile. “You just break all the rules when you’re here.”

 

“I don’t break all the rules!” Joshua defended. “Just a few.”

 

“You’re not supposed to be here, Jisoo!” Minhyuk chimed as he reapplied some eyeliner. “That’s a rule you’re breaking right now!”

 

“Shut up, Minhyuk!” Joshua responded. “You’re not in this anyway.” His tone sounded defensive, but Wonwoo had a feeling they were arguing in good fun. In a teasing way.

 

“Anyways,” Mingyu said, turning to Wonwoo. He pulled up his shirt proudly to reveal his bare torso. Wonwoo’s breath hitched when he saw the hickeys on his collarbone. Joshua whistled.

 

“Damn, you wasted no time,” Joshua said. “Does Jihoon really let you dance with those?”

 

“He liked them,” Mingyu retorted with a small pout. “So did the rest of the club, they really ate it up.”

 

Wonwoo could feel himself visibly blushing. “I, um. . . don’t really know how to respond.”

 

Mingyu took his shirt off fully. “Aren’t they pretty? You’re so talented, Wonwoo.”

 

“More like his mouth is talented,” Minhyuk said from across the room. “Mingyu, our break ends soon. We gotta get back out there.”

 

“Kay,” Mingyu said. He turned to Wonwoo and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Will you watch me?”

 

Wonwoo nodded. “Yes.” He unbuttoned his collared shirt and rubbed away the concealer to reveal the hickey Mingyu had made. “You’re more talented than me anyway.”

 

Mingyu smiled. “I like it. You should wear your shirt like that, just for tonight, just for right now. I’d like to see it while I’m dancing,” he flirted.

 

“Don’t worry, I was gonna do that anyway,” Wonwoo said. He placed his hands on Mingyu’s hips, rubbing his thumb in circles.

 

“God,” Mingyu murmured. “I hope you know how sexy you are.”

 

“Mm,” Wonwoo murmured. “Good luck.”

 

“I’ll dance for you, Wonwoo.”


	5. Chapter 5

That night, when Seokmin offered Wonwoo a drink, he didn’t refuse. He didn’t even give a verbal answer, he just downed the shot without saying anything. Then Seokmin returned with another shot until Wonwoo felt his vision blurry and his body moving, dancing to the music like a nightclub, pushing through the crowd to get another closer glance at a dancer who he thought was Mingyu—everything was a blur, so he wasn’t completely sure. He felt Joshua next to him, equally as drunk.

 

To be fair, Wonwoo thought he was a heavyweight. Thought. But he lost count of how many drinks he’d taken and couldn’t care less if there were any press at the club—they’d get a glimpse at what he looked like at his best and worst at the same time.

 

Wonwoo didn’t know what time it was when he felt himself being pushed out by the very sober Seungkwan. “You’re drunk,” he said over and over. “Please get out, you’re making it difficult and the bouncers won’t be as kind as me.”

 

“Mingyu!” Wonwoo yelled to no one in particular. “Mingyu, let’s go!”

 

“Wonwoo, shut up!” Seungkwan hissed. “He’s still changing, leave him be. He’s had a long day and even longer night.”

 

“I want him to sleep with me!” Wonwoo declared. “Mingyu~~!”

 

Seungkwan’s eyes widened. “Shut up! Wonwoo, his father’s bail was set! Can’t you be a little sympathetic, eh? He’s so stressed. It’s high, lots of money. So for the love of God, please just _shut up_!”

 

Wonwoo was too drunk to register that, but he did shut up. It might’ve been because of Seungkwan’s words or because the shots he’d taken had begun to burn his throat. As he was turning around and vomiting up his drunkenness, Mingyu entered.

 

“Holy shit. . .!” Mingyu gasped. “He’s. . . drunk? I never thought I would see a guy as composed as Wonwoo get drunk.”

 

“Yeah, get his ass out. Now. I’m glad he found the trashcan, but if I have to clean up any more vomit tonight, I’ll get Jihoon to kick your ass,” Seungkwan retorted.

 

“ _My_ ass? I’m not the drunk one here! Actually, I don’t get drunk enough, I think.”

 

“He’s here ‘cause of you,” Seungkwan muttered, gesturing to Wonwoo, still keeling over the trashcan, but he’d finished throwing up. “Therefore, he’s your problem by default.”

 

“Mingyu, finally!” Wonwoo slurred. “Please, can we go away? To Apego? I want you. . .”

 

“I guess he is my responsibility. Where’s. . . where’s Joshua?”

 

“Making out with Jeonghan in the bathroom,” Seungkwan said monotonously. “Normally, I’d kick them out but it’s his last night. . . I think he deserves _this_. He deserves Jeonghan for one last night.”

 

“Agreed. I’ll collect Wonwoo and we’ll be out,” Mingyu said with a bow. “I’m sorry you had to deal with him.”

 

“Apology accepted,” Seungkwan answered as he turned around to continue his work. “Now get outta here, and don’t sleep with him.”

 

“What?” Mingyu asked, but Seungkwan had already resumed his work while quietly humming a foreign tune to himself. Mingyu turned to Wonwoo and Wonwoo smiled at him tiredly. “Let’s go.”

 

Mingyu pulled Wonwoo out of the club, Wonwoo begging for them to get a room in Apego. Mingyu had obliged without much reluctance—as long as Wonwoo paid for it, he had no problem. In Mingyu’s car, he tossed Wonwoo some water as he buckled his seatbelt. “Drink that, it’ll help your throat and help you sober up. Buckle your seatbelt too.” Wonwoo buckled his seatbelt and Mingyu reached over to lock it, so Wonwoo couldn’t fool around while he was driving. It was then when Wonwoo, vision clouded by alcohol and lust, caught sight of Mingyu’s hickeys as his shirt parted a bit at the collar.

 

“Your hickeys,” he murmured. “They’re mine. You’re mine.”

 

“Wonwoo, drink your water. You’re still drunk. It’s not healthy.”

 

“You’re mine,” Wonwoo repeated ceaselessly. 

 

Mingyu turned his head so he could make eye contact with the older man. “I’m not anyone’s.”

 

“Mine. Those are my hickeys,” Wonwoo breathed. He pushed aside his barely-buttoned collared shirt to reveal the single one Mingyu had made and heard Mingyu’s breath hitch.

 

“We should go,” Mingyu mused and cleared his throat. “It’s gonna be late. I don’t know if your parents are expecting you, but I can’t take you back to your house while you’re still this drunk, so I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?”

 

Wonwoo grinned gleefully like a kid in a candy store. “No, not really!”

 

Mingyu made Wonwoo wear one of his hoodies with the hood up while they checked in, so the receptionist wouldn’t recognize him. Wonwoo liked it, it was snug and smelled like Mingyu, and it took every ounce of him not to jump on Mingyu as they were in the elevator alone. Mingyu unlocked the door and Wonwoo walked in first, threw off the hoodie, and pushed his lips against Mingyu’s.

 

“Won. . . woo?” Mingyu gasped quizzically. “What. . .”

 

“Please. . . Mingyu. . .” Wonwoo moaned. At that moment, all he could see was Mingyu and all he could think about was how _sexy_ Mingyu would look naked. Mingyu was a stripper, he already didn’t leave much to the imagination. Wonwoo didn’t mind, he was never a very creative person even when drunk.

 

“Wonwoo!” Mingyu said a bit louder, pushing the older man off him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

 

“I wanna hook up,” Wonwoo said bluntly, crossing his arms. He smiled before leaning closer to Mingyu. “I know you do too so just let me. . .” He rested his hands on Mingyu’s belt before he began unbuckling it slowly, tantalizingly.

 

“Stop, Wonwoo!” Mingyu pushed his hands away and buckled his belt. “I don’t want this. Sober Wonwoo wouldn’t want this either, so don’t try to convince me he would. You’re a different person when you’re drunk. You misunderstand shit. I checked in for this hotel because I knew I couldn’t take you back home to your strict and conservative parents like. . . _this_.” He motioned to Wonwoo’s body. “You’re drunk out of your mind and in no condition to explain where you were to your dad. You couldn’t lie if you wanted to.”

 

“No~!” Wonwoo cried. “Please Mingyu! I’ll let you fuck me, anything, please!”

 

“No. You wanna sleep in different beds too?”

 

Wonwoo pouted. “Nuh—no.” He widened his eyes in an almost cute face, trying to play with him. “Can you at least take off your shirt? Can you give me a hickey?”

 

“No. You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

 

“Can I give you a hickey?”

 

Wonwoo delightfully heard Mingyu’s breathing slow. No doubt he was remembering the morning and his own request for Wonwoo to give him a hickey, vivid memories and burning emotions overflowing in his chest. 

 

“Your hickeys will fade, you need new ones to keep the audience entertained!” Wonwoo added. “Please~~?”

 

Mingyu’s eyes searched Wonwoo’s for something Wonwoo didn’t know—regret maybe? Then, he unbuttoned his collared shirt but didn’t take it off so it rested on his shoulders, the pale fabric a stark contrast against tan skin. “Just. . . just a hickey and nothing more. No sex. Don’t get naked either. Sleep with your clothes on.”

 

Wonwoo nodded hungrily, Mingyu’s conditions going in one ear and out the other. Quickly, he pushed Mingyu on the bed, lips attached and tongues entwined. Wonwoo’s hands were on Mingyu’s hips and Mingyu’s arms laced around his neck. Despite his drunken state, Wonwoo didn’t want to screw up his chances so he kept his hands strictly on Mingyu’s torso, grazing over his abs and gripping his hips. Wonwoo was conscious of Mingyu’s rules but maybe. . . maybe he could turn Mingyu on enough to sway Mingyu into hooking up with him. Mingyu didn’t seem to change his mind, despite how the younger man knew how much of a boner Wonwoo had.

 

Mingyu gasped into the kiss as Wonwoo moved from his lips to his jaw and finally down to his lower neck and upper collarbone, sucking on a small patch of distance, a decent distance from the previous ones. Mingyu’s hands moved up from Wonwoo’s neck to his hair, his fingers tangling in the feathery strands as he moaned Wonwoo’s name. By the second hickey, Wonwoo could feel his desire for Mingyu growing past the alcohol.

 

“Mingyu. . . please. . . fuck me,” Wonwoo murmured against Mingyu’s skin. “I know you. . . want it. . . mm. . .”

 

“Wonwoo. . . ah! That’s enough!” Mingyu gasped. “Please. I can’t take it anymore, you need to stop. Your drunk consent doesn’t mean shit, I don’t believe sober Wonwoo would want me to do that.”

 

“I would, please! I want you so bad!” Wonwoo argued. 

 

Mingyu ran his fingers delicately through Wonwoo’s hair, now slightly messier. “It doesn’t matter. You’re drunk as shit, I know you’ll wake up and regret everything. I do.” Wonwoo shifted upwards so his head was resting on Mingyu’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to regret time you spend with me.”

 

Wonwoo closed his eyes and traced miscellaneous whorls in Mingyu’s smooth skin and listened to the racing sound of his heart. “If you want to. . . wake me up. . . I think. . .” Suddenly, Wonwoo leapt out of the bed, and raced to the bathroom where he keeled over the toilet, throwing up nearly everything he’d drank.

 

Mingyu leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. “Told you you’re drunk as shit. Come on, I know you’re not wanting me right now. How sexy would it be if my dick was up your ass and you vomited all over me?

 

Wonwoo coughed, his face burning. He felt soberer now. “Shuh. . . shut up. That’s embarrassing.”

 

“It sure is. Now drink some water, get yourself together and come back in bed with me.”

 

Wonwoo did just that. He let the cool water trickle down his throat, which was burning of bile and removed his shirt for he was sweating like crazy. Then, he walked back to the bed and situated himself next to a lightly-sleeping Mingyu. He felt Mingyu shiver when he came in contact with Wonwoo’s bare skin.

 

“Did you really get naked?” Mingyu murmured quietly. 

 

“Just my shirt,” Wonwoo responded. “It’s hot and I’m sweating.”

 

Mingyu held Wonwoo closer. “Good. Don’t get naked. Good night, Wonwoo.”

 

“Good night Mingyu. You worked hard tonight.” Wonwoo reached in the pocket of his black jeans and pulled out a ₩50,000 note and slipped it in the waistband of Mingyu’s pants. The younger man was either too dazed or tired to care.

 

\--

 

The light was too bright, even though the curtains took most of the rays. It was blinding Wonwoo, who’s head was pounding as he struggled to recall the events of the previous night. He couldn’t remember much, but he remembered downing countless drinks and maybe even more hardcore drugs, feeling his body lifted, his lips on Mingyu’s as he pressed him against the wall of a cheap Apego hotel room, Mingyu’s voice telling him to stop. . . now he was lying half-naked against Mingyu’s bare chest, his collared shirt hanging completely unbuttoned and loose on his limbs. He blinked a couple times. By this time in the morning, Wonwoo would’ve thrown up but he hadn’t, so he racked his brain for a reason why not. He vaguely recalled throwing up twice in the previous night and he sighed, placing his ear against Mingyu’s chest. He didn’t know what time it was but it was probably late morning and he didn’t remember what time he’d actually gone to bed that night. Despite his pounding head, he still needed a solid lie as to why he hadn’t gone straight home after the gala.

 

“Morning,” Mingyu murmured.

 

“Did. . . did we really sleep together?” Wonwoo asked shakily. His eyes had landed on a suspicious new hickey decorating Mingyu’s lower neck. “Is that from me?”

 

“No we didn’t,” Mingyu said. “Do you remember? You wanted to but I said no, ‘cause I knew you would never agree to sleeping with me if you were sober. You were so drunk last night. I don’t know what Seokmin gave you, but you were also with Joshua so you might’ve had something more than just alcohol. Seokmin and Seungkwan made an agreement with the bouncers to let Joshua do whatever the hell he wanted for that one night since it was his last so. . . um, does your nose feel dry?”

 

“Maybe a little. . .” Wonwoo murmured. “I’ve got too bad of a headache to focus on my nose.”

 

Mingyu chuckled. “You should recover quickly.” He turned over on his side, removing his arm from Wonwoo so he could use it as a pillow. His face was so close to Wonwoo’s. . . so close. . . 

 

Mingyu’s eyes visibly traced Wonwoo’s body turned on its side. “What time should we leave? As much as I’d like to stay like this, we just can’t. It’s not safe for you if some off-beat reporter sees you leaving the hotel with another man, obviously hungover. And I. . . I have some priorities at home.”

 

“Priorities? Like what?”

 

Wonwoo heard Mingyu inhale. “My. . . my father’s bail was set.”

 

Wonwoo felt like someone had told him this before, Seungkwan maybe? Either way, he was just learning this now. “How much?”

 

“Five hundred million,” Mingyu murmured. “He’s in jail for five years as of now, but it’ll probably be more when they find out about his overseas sales and drug trafficking. I’d say twenty or thirty years as a guess, but it could be more.”

 

“I have that kind of money,” Wonwoo whispered. “I can just give you—”

 

“No charity.”

 

“Just a loan? And you can pay me back when you get your life together with your father?”

 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t raised that way,” Mingyu said. “No disrespect, but I come from a place where we’re not born into a lotta money, or even a little. I’ve been working since I was young, not stripping but manual labor. Odd jobs for the richest people in the neighborhood after my mom left. Then I realized I could make a more constant amount of money if I got a legit job so I was working at a gas station for a few years while I was still in high school. I was dancing on the side, in a studio. At the time, that was what I was paying for—studio dance lessons. Then, a woman named Ms. Lee came and asked me how I would feel about stripping. I said yes and dropped out of school and stopped the lessons. My lessons are at the club now. I make more money than in a gas station and I like the people I work with. They. . . they understand it.”

 

“Understand it how?”

 

“Most of them are my age and not in school. I think. . . I think I would be in my last year of high school if I stayed in it. My dad never made me feel like I needed to graduate or go to college, so I didn’t feel bad when I was dropping out. School is expensive, so I wouldn’t even be able to go to college even if I wanted to. The other dancers. . . a lot of them don’t understand. Junhui, he’s older than me, his parents are from China, but he’s lived here his whole life. He was in school but only made it to his first year of high school. I think Soonyoung also dropped out, but he finished high school. Just didn’t go to college. Hansol. . . he’s still in school I think. We’ve been trying to convince him to stay but he wants to drop out too. He’s young, he’s the youngest dancer. There’s one guy, Chan, younger than Hansol, but he doesn’t dance. He’s the son of one of the bouncers and he likes to watch. I hope he doesn’t try to dance here. . . he’s a gifted dancer but he shouldn’t strip. Too young.”

 

“Oh. . .” Wonwoo murmured. “I’m sorry.”

 

“What did I tell you? Quit apologizing for things that aren’t your fault.”

 

“No, I just. . . When you tell me about all of the terrible things that you’ve had to do, I just feel like. . . like I’m the reason you’re in this situation. I’ve got everything I need until I die, and you’re working for the food on your plate. . .”

 

“Shh, don’t say that.” Mingyu pressed his lips to Wonwoo’s forehead. “You can’t control who you were born to. I just need to work harder, that’s all.”

 

“Please accept just a little money,” Wonwoo begged. “Just one credit card or I can pay for your basic needs so you can focus on the bail money. Please!”

 

“I can handle it,” Mingyu said quietly. “I’m good at working and I can do this. Don’t worry about me.”

 

“I’m not worrying, I’m making up for myself. I want to feel better about myself.”

 

“So you’re giving money to the poor? You’re very charitable,” Mingyu said sarcastically. “This is about you, isn’t it?”

 

Wonwoo was immediately taken aback. “What? No, I didn’t mean it like that, the words came out wrong, I—”

 

“Save it. Let’s get you home, I’ve got an Advil you can take for the headache. If you’re comin’ to SVT tonight, text me, eh?”

 

\--

 

To say the car ride was awkward was an understatement. It was more awkward than the ride to the airport with Sana or the helicopter ride to the Hong property. Wonwoo wanted to apologize more or say he didn’t mean it like _that_ , like he wanted to help Mingyu’s family and economic issues for his own personal gain but he was afraid that he would make him even more angry.

 

“Look under the dashboard on your side,” Mingyu spoke after a bit. “There’s a black hoodie, wear it. You don’t want people to recognize you.”

 

Wonwoo saw it and put it on without question. It was large on him and smelled like Mingyu. He recognized it for a minute, feeling like he had worn it or just seen it somewhere but he shrugged it off. “Thank you.”

 

Mingyu gave a small nod and the ghost of a smile crossed his face but he tried to stay stoic. 

 

“Are you still mad at me? I’m sorry, really, the words came out wrong.”

 

“I’m not mad. I just need to be alone for a bit. Caring for a drunk Wonwoo is hard and I had a long night.” In any other instance, Wonwoo would’ve thought Mingyu was making a joke but he wasn’t sure right now. 

 

Mingyu dropped him off less than a block away from his building. Wonwoo thanked him again before putting the hood over his head and walking with it down, hands in his pockets, trying to avoid the prying eyes of the Gangnam-gu public. They didn’t seem to bother with him anyway—the hoodie was a cheap knockoff, one that citizens of Gangnam-gu wouldn’t even bother looking twice at. By the time Wonwoo was in the elevator taking off the hoodie, he realized something and panicked.

 

His blazer. He’d left it, drunkenly and stupidly, at SVT.

 

Wonwoo panicked. He felt a sense of dread consume him—that blazer cost millions of won along with the rest of his suit and he’d just _left_ it at a second-rate strip club where anyone could’ve picked it up. He texted Mingyu immediately upon realizing it was missing but there was a large chance someone could’ve taken it and sold it even without knowing who it belonged too. It could go for tons of money—enough to get a person out of a bad place. Besides, his father would be pissed that he’d lost it but he would have to make up a lie. 

 

Wonwoo knew Mingyu had forgotten to give him an Advil in the car but he hadn’t asked, lest Mingyu get angry at him. So when he walked in his penthouse, he downed two Advils and checked on his parents’ room. His mother was asleep, still in the bed and Wonwoo assumed she may’ve had one too many drinks in celebration of investing in the Hong’s property and his father was gone. Wonwoo assumed he was at work. Just then, his phone rang. It was his father. Wonwoo inhaled sharply, hoping he wouldn’t ask about his whereabouts last night.

 

“Good morning,” Wonwoo said when he picked up. “Are you at work?”

 

_”Yes. I am working out the details with Mr. Hong. He would like to know where you took his son last night.”_

 

Wonwoo felt adrenaline run through his veins. He was better off throwing his phone out the window and packing his things and flying to Japan to live with Sana. “Pardon me?”

 

“Mr. Hong says he saw you and Joshua exit the gala a bit early and Joshua didn’t tell him where you two were going.”

 

“We went to eat dinner at the Kim Bistro. Then he took me to see a few other properties that he liked but didn’t own. It was late by the time we were finished and we knew the gala would be over so we just stayed at one of your hotels rather than wake you up after a long night,” Wonwoo explained. He’d rehearsed the lie over and over in his head while he was in the car with Mingyu and he was hoping it would work, but there was one problem. He had no idea where Joshua Hong was.

 

“He is worried because Joshua hasn’t returned home yet.”

 

“He was sleeping when I left. I left him a note and some money so that we could split the cost. He might’ve gone out for a brunch, I recommended a place to go while he was here.” Wonwoo felt proud of himself, all of the events he described seemed feasible. 

 

 _”I see. I will be home late, do your work and don’t fuck around in front of the media.”_ The line went dead, and Wonwoo assumed he’d hung up. 

 

He wished he could call Joshua or something to ask where he was so that he could back him up on his lie. He had a feeling he would anyway, but there was a small chance his brain could still be clouded in a haze of alcohol and whatever else they’d taken last night and would say the truth. He was worried, to say the less. If anything like this ever got out to their fathers or the public, Wonwoo was dead and Joshua probably was too. He would be shipped off to a camp for troubled boys in the rich part of Brazil and would never learn Portuguese nor listen to the stories of his campmates.

 

Wonwoo ran his fingers through his hair in worry, but his mind was distracted from it by a single text.

 

_mingyu: got your blazer. i’m waiting at the lobby of your complex._

 

Glancing back at his mom’s sleeping figure through the door, he rushed into the elevator quickly. He was afraid Mingyu might still be a bit pissed at him for his hungover words and didn’t want to keep him waiting. 

 

He saw Mingyu through the open doors of the lobby, standing casually leaned up against his truck, holding the blazer like it was nothing. In any other instance, Wonwoo would’ve been frightened that people might know who’s blazer it was, but he wasn’t worried. The passerby payed Mingyu no mind and most of them didn’t even turn their heads.

 

“Thank you,” Wonwoo whispered. “Do you want anything? Money or—”

 

Mingyu chuckled. “No. Just doing something nice for a friend, that’s all.” He handed Wonwoo the blazer as a chilly breeze blew through the city. Their hands touched for a moment and Wonwoo could’ve sworn he felt a spark.

 

Maybe Mingyu had felt it too, because a small blush dusted his cheeks. “I um, should get going.”

 

Wonwoo smiled a bit and bid him goodbye before staring at his palm as Mingyu’s words replayed over and over in his head. _Just doing something nice for a friend. Friend._

 

He returned to his penthouse wordlessly, hoping to get a head start on his schoolwork or work his father had assigned from Jeon Corp. He was delayed, however, by a single, startling text.

 

_Unknown Number: How much are you willing to pay?_

 

Wonwoo’s heart stopped when he opened the image attached to the text. It was the kind of image that ruins people, and all their future generations for hundreds of years.

 

It was a picture of him and Mingyu, Mingyu handing him the blazer and their eyes so terrifyingly clearly locked.


	6. Chapter 6

“How could this happen?” Wonwoo whispered into the phone. He’d ignored the text out of fright and called Mingyu in a panic. “I could’ve sworn. . .”

 

 _”Calm down,”_ Mingyu said. _“They probably just want some money and maybe publicity. Whoever’s done this is desperate, Wonwoo. You can pay them, can’t you?”_

 

Wonwoo chewed on his fingernails anxiously. “I um, it depends. Depends on the amount they want and depends on whether I’ll be able to get it out of my trust fund. If it can come out of my trust fund, that is. Any more, and I’ll have to get into my dad’s account and that could take months just for authorization. Plus, they change the password every other Tuesday—”

 

 _“Wonwoo!”_ Mingyu hissed over the phone. _“Look, just send them a text. Don’t even ask how much they want just ask what they want. Chances are they won’t have the balls to actually send in the photo and plus, what headliner wants a picture of you and me? It’s just a blazer, it’s not like it’s underwear or something.”_

 

“Yeah, but people could get the wrong idea and if my dad sees it, I’m dead,” Wonwoo whispered.

 

 _“Can you come over today? I know a spot near the club that’s not crawling with paparazzi or their little, um. . .”_ Mingyu cleared his throat before continuing, _“minions. We can work it out from there”_

 

“I bet I could sneak out for a bit,” Wonwoo responded. “Just. . . just text me the address and I’ll take a taxi. I shouldn’t risk showing myself like that to the public, especially when there’s a chance that whoever took this photo could’ve sent it to more people to back it up.”

 

_“Stop fretting, we’ll work it out, okay? Trust me. Send the text too, ask them what they want. If they want anything, that is. I’ll see you soon.”_

 

A few seconds later, Wonwoo’s phone pinged with the address to a small coffee shop located just blocks from SVT. It was strange that a strip club and coffee shop were located so close to each other, but it was just the design of that side of town.

 

Wonwoo stepped out, wearing Mingyu’s black hoodie. It wasn’t because it was comforting or anything. . . or at least what Wonwoo told himself. It was cheap and assured him that people wouldn’t give him a second glance on the sidewalk. The fact that the sleeves went past Wonwoo’s fingertips and it smelled like Mingyu’s cologne was just a plus.

 

The coffee shop had a small, homey feel with large windows and a sign written in large English letters that Wonwoo didn’t bother to read. He saw Mingyu sitting solemnly at a table that was meant for two and felt a pang of guilt for being late. He felt bad making Mingyu wait. There was a bell on the door that rang sweetly when Wonwoo stepped inside. Mingyu caught sight of him instantly and gave a small smile as if beckoning. Wonwoo didn’t need any beckoning, he simply gravitated towards the younger man.

 

“Looks good on you,” Mingyu complimented.

 

“What?”

 

He chuckled. “The hoodie. It’s not yours, did you forget?”

 

Wonwoo felt a shade of pink dust his cheeks. “Ah, right. I meant to give it back to you today, but—”

 

“Keep it,” Mingyu said, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand. “It looks kinda. . . nevermind.”

 

“Kinda what?”

 

“Nothing. It’s silly.”

 

Wonwoo took a seat across from him. “No, I wanna know. You already started talking, now you’ve gotta finish.”

 

Mingyu cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Cute. It looks cute. Maybe ‘cause it’s big for you, but it’s cute. Anyways. . .”

 

Wonwoo blushed harder and tried to hide it with his hand. He knew he looked like a flushed schoolgirl and hated that Mingyu got to see. That Mingyu was the reason. “Thuh. . . thank you.” He wasn’t completely sure how to respond to that, but to be fair, he was the one who pressed for an answer. “So.” He pulled out his phone, trying to disrupt the air of awkwardness between them. “This is the photo.”

 

Mingyu took it delicately and examined it. “And you sent the text?”

 

Wonwoo nodded. “They haven’t replied.”

 

“Probably considering the amount they want,” Mingyu murmured. “I say block the number if they don’t respond within the next, mm, four or five hours?”

 

“But they could send in the picture to some remote headliner and it could go viral!” Wonwoo protested.

 

“There’s not much wrong with it anyway,” Mingyu said. Just then, the waitress came to the table to deliver two coffees along with a small plate of scones. Mingyu took it and thanked her quietly.

 

“Who drinks two coffees?” Wonwoo murmured, more to himself than Mingyu but Mingyu, of course, heard him. 

 

“Nobody,” Mingyu responded. “I bought you one. Do you not want it?”

 

“What?” Wonwoo asked but he’d heard him fine. “No—no, it’s fine. Thank you.” He took a sip of the coffee hesitantly as if he suspected it would be poisonous. He preferred his coffee with a bit of sugar that Mingyu had neglected to add, but Wonwoo didn’t care. He drank it just the same. The idea that Mingyu had thought of him while buying it was sweet enough to calm the bitter tang of the liquid.

 

“Isn’t it a bit strange that they didn’t reply?” Mingyu murmured. “Like, think about it. If you were in a bad financial situation that depended on _one_ text being sent, wouldn’t you be anxious? Like, watching your phone, with the ringer all the way up ‘n shit?”

 

“I guess,” Wonwoo said, but he truly knew that he would. “One text. And I’m positive I sent it.”

 

“So what if they ask for a lot? Too much?” Mingyu tapped the side of his chin in thought. “How much is too much?”

 

“Too much?” Wonwoo thought for a moment. “If I burn out my trust fund for this person, my father’ll know. He’ll ask where it went and I won’t be able to tell him. He won’t deposit more money in it, that’s for sure. I don’t wanna burn out my trust fund. I’m sorry if that sounds bratty.”

 

“It doesn’t,” Mingyu replied calmly. After a bit of silence, he spoke up again. “Wonwoo. . . you know if anything ever happens, you can come to me. I mean, not too bad since we’ve only known each other for a few days, but I feel like we’ve been through more than most people within the first forty-eight hours of knowing each other.”

 

Wonwoo chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose.” His eyes drifted to Mingyu’s neck. It was covered with a light-colored scarf, maybe intentionally or maybe because the autumn air was beginning to take Seoul, but either way, Wonwoo could see just a bit, just a tiny sliver, of purplish bruised skin. “I suppose we have.”

 

Mingyu caught sight of his gaze and stood up, flustered. “I’m going to use the restroom.”

 

He didn’t even wait for Wonwoo to respond before leaving in a haste. Wonwoo’s eyes widened behind his glasses in surprise as Mingyu barreled past him to the men’s room. He sipped his coffee slowly. Did he do something wrong? He wasn’t entirely sure why Mingyu had blushed and left in a hurry. Just then, it occurred to him that Mingyu might’ve not even gone to the bathroom at all.

 

Swallowing, Wonwoo stood up and walked slowly to the back. There was a staff member cleaning out some dishes by the sink, so Wonwoo asked him about Mingyu. “Did a tall man just run back here? Wearing a black sweater?”

 

The staff member shrugged. “I didn’t see anyone. There’s a man over there though, through the windows. That your guy?”

 

Wonwoo glanced out through the window to see him—Mingyu. His hands were in his hair anxiously and he appeared to be waiting for someone. Wonwoo thanked the employee kindly before walking out the back door to see his figure. “Mingyu?”

 

Mingyu turned around, eyes soaked with tears. He wiped them away hastily. “Wuh—Wonwoo, I—”

 

“What’s wrong? Why’re you crying? What’s going on?” Wonwoo asked, standing next to him, his hands in the pockets of Mingyu’s hoodie.

 

Mingyu sniffed and ran his fingers through his messy hair. “I. . . can we go back to that hotel? The one we went to after the first night?”

 

“Apego?” Wonwoo asked.

 

Mingyu nodded. “Yeah, Apego. I wanna talk somewhere that isn’t here.”

 

\--

 

Luckily, Mingyu had brought his truck to make the journey a bit easier. However, Wonwoo would’ve necessarily called it “easy”, more like “quiet”. If they’d walked to Apego, the awkward silence would’ve been filled by the crunching of leaves on the sidewalk or the sounds of footsteps and voices of the passerby. But in the truck, it was nothing but silence, the only thing keeping it alive was the consistent creak of the breaks.

 

They went up to the roof without much trouble, after all, Wonwoo was used to simply getting to one of his dad’s hotels and using the roof or maybe checking into a room if he was a little tipsy. 

 

When they opened the heavy metal door leading to the outside, Mingyu nearly collapsed on himself, body suddenly wracked by sobs.

 

Wonwoo fell beside him, a hand over his shoulders comfortingly. “Mingyu, please! What’s happening?”

 

“Why do you do this?” Mingyu choked out.

 

Wonwoo blinked. “What? Do what?”

 

“This!” Mingyu replied as though it should be obvious. “You watch me, you look at my body, you look into my eyes like a partner would, you. . . you _kiss_ me like a partner would.”

 

“Wuh—what?”

 

“How can you make me think you are interested in me?”

 

Wonwoo fell on his elbows, almost backing away from him. But he held his ground. “Interested in you? Mingyu. . .”

 

“You know it, I know it, everyone knows it!” Mingyu cried.

 

“Mingyu. . . this isn’t a confession, is it? We’ve only known each other for—”

 

“For a few days, don’t you think I know that, dammit?!” Mingyu hissed, covering his face with his hands. “Years.” His voice was just barely a whisper. If Wonwoo hadn’t been looking, he wouldn’t’ve heard it. “It feels like years, doesn’t it?”

 

“Years?”

 

“We’ve known each other for years.” Mingyu tilted his head up so it rested against the wall. “How do you have this effect on people, Jeon Wonwoo?” 

 

Wonwoo blinked cluelessly, his lips parted in surprise. 

 

“You make. . . you make people feel like their whole world revolves around you, you make people wish they were a part of your life, you make. . . you make people wonder why they can’t hold you and touch you.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Wonwoo whispered. 

 

“You’re so. . . enticing.” 

 

Wonwoo still didn’t understand. He wasn’t sure if this was a compliment or insult and was afraid to ask. Apparently, Mingyu took his silence in stride, because he continued.

 

“Everyone wants you, but you’re too clueless to understand.”

 

“Nobody wants me,” Wonwoo spoke. It was the first sentence he’d spoken to Mingyu with ice in it.

 

“Don’t throw yourself a pity party.”

 

“I’m not,” Wonwoo responded. He was trying desperately to keep his composure but Mingyu’s words were tipping him over the edge. “You understand that when you get. . .” he drew in a breath sharply, “when your dad degrades you every night and says you’re not fit to do anything and that your brother is so much better. You’ll understand when your dad hits you for no reason and your mom is too stoned to care. You’ll understand when your girlfriend cares about you but lives in a different country. I’ll just tell you now, and I’ll do it nicely— _you’ll never understand_. So forgive me if I don’t know how to take something like that when I’ve only ever been told the opposite.” Wonwoo chose his words carefully in hopes that he wouldn’t lash out, but he couldn’t help the venom seeping into his tone.

 

Mingyu just looked at him. “But you have something I’ll never have—you’ve got money, lots of it, and you can do anything with money. You can fly out of the country, you can start a new life in the west but I can’t. I’m confined to my shitty life where I lose my dignity every night just so I can eat in the morning, God, I had to quit my dream of dancing so I could support my dad when my mom went crazy. So don’t give me that bullshit, you’ve got a future—maybe not the one your dad wants, but you’ve got the props to do so.”

 

Wonwoo lay down across from him, eyes searching the clouds above. They were dark, with no sign of sun, no strip of blue. A storm was coming, in more ways than one and Wonwoo could tell by the way the wind tossed up their hair. He didn’t respond for a moment, letting Mingyu’s words soak in and listening to his occasional sob. “You know what Joshua Hong said to me?”

 

Mingyu looked up at him, his knees pulled into his chest protectively. He didn’t respond, so Wonwoo decided to continue.

 

“He said hell can’t be modest. I said we’re all living in a different sort of hell, you and me, and mine is just more modest.” Wonwoo had Mingyu’s full attention now. “I said you have your hell and I have mine, but mine is just more modest. I don’t take my clothes off each night but I do get pressured to be the best of the best. But he says hell can’t be like that. He’s Christian, so I guess that would be an appropriate response.”

 

“My mother was Confucianist,” Mingyu offered quietly. “I’m not religious.”

 

“Exactly, I’m an atheist,” Wonwoo responded. “Do you think hell can be modest?”

 

“Depends,” Mingyu murmured. “When. . . when you kissed me the other night, it wasn’t any sort of hell.”

 

 _Heaven_. The word almost escaped Wonwoo’s lips but he held it in. Of course, he had been drunk so he wasn’t entirely sure. “I um, wasn’t sober,” he reminded Mingyu gently.

 

Mingyu shook his head. “Not last night. A few nights ago, when you were talking about your girlfriend. About how you don’t have feelings for her like you should. You said that when she kisses you, you feel nothing. Come to think about it, you never actually told me whether you felt something or not when we kissed. You said you felt a lot of things but you never elaborated.”

 

“I don’t recall,” Wonwoo responded quietly. He meant about what he felt when they kissed. He mentally cursed himself for not remembering, but it was true. He had drunk a bit that night, not enough to get drunk but maybe just enough to forget little bits and pieces of the night.

 

“You already forgot?” Mingyu asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You weren’t even drunk.”

 

“Bad memory I guess,” Wonwoo said nonchalantly. He knew the kiss meant something, but he didn’t know what. Either that or he didn’t remember. He felt like that could mean it was insignificant, but his gut told him that it had been the opposite.

 

“Are you doing this again?”

 

“Doing what?”

 

“You know,” Mingyu said, running his fingers through his hair. “Making me want you when I’ve barely known you. I don’t believe in that kind of stuff.”

 

“What kind of stuff?” Wonwoo wasn’t trying to be annoying, he generally didn’t know.

 

“Nevermind. Should I just give you what you want?” Mingyu asked to himself. His eyes darted around in though before giving a small smile and nodding to himself. Wonwoo could only watch as he lowered himself onto the ground so he was lying next to Wonwoo—only Mingyu was facing him. 

 

“Don’t tell me I’ve read you wrong,” Mingyu whispered, his voice sickly-sweet. Wonwoo sensed he wanted something and then Wonwoo felt it in his stomach—the familiar feeling from the truck after the first night they’d kissed. A feeling that built up in his stomach and threatened to spill over unless he acted on it. Despite how much he wished it away, it would always come back, especially when Mingyu’s stripper side came out. He recalled it from the night at SVT with Joshua, drowning in vodka and sweat. There was no other word for it—lust.

 

Wonwoo swallowed. He turned over so his gaze met Mingyu’s. He tried not to let Mingyu know that he wanted to feel his lips on his neck again or his hands on his waist, but Mingyu was a stripper. He knew when people wanted him by their facial expressions. “No.”

 

Mingyu smirked. “I didn’t think so.” 

 

Of course, Mingyu had read him correctly—Wonwoo’s complains about forgetting that night when they first kissed had hinted about his desire for Mingyu to kiss him again, not to mention Wonwoo’s aura dripped with involuntary desire. 

 

Mingyu sat up. “You want this?”

 

Wonwoo sat up as well, so he was directly across from Mingyu, gaze unbroken. “Yes.”

 

“Then listen to me,” Mingyu spoke, his voice commanding and powerful. “Straddle me.”

 

Wonwoo did just that, lowering himself on Mingyu’s lap, knees on either side of him. Mingyu’s back was pressed against the wall but Wonwoo knew Mingyu would be the one controlling him.

 

“There’s no cameras up here, right?”

 

“I destroyed them a couple years ago,” Wonwoo replied truthfully. At the time, he had been hoping for a rendezvous with a cute boy he’d met at a restaurant but he never showed.

 

“Good.” Mingyu’s hand rested on Wonwoo’s waist. “God, you look so sexy in my sweatshirt. Do you know how hot you are?”

 

Wonwoo merely bit his lower lip in response.

 

“Exactly. I bet you make all the rich little boys and girls at your fancy high school go crazy for you. Who knew you could let someone like me dominate you so easily?” Mingyu’s voice was husky and low, his words sending shivers down Wonwoo’s spine. Mingyu took Wonwoo’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes meeting Wonwoo’s again. He leaned forward, his tongue immediately slipping into Wonwoo’s mouth. 

 

Gasping, Wonwoo began kissing back hungrily, desperate for Mingyu only to realize that the latter had pulled away, a teasing smirk on his face.

 

“That remind you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is lazily edited and I apologize! I'm hoping to end this story with ten full chapters (my original plan was just five, but it went slower than I thought) so we are almost done. Thank you for sticking with me!


	7. Chapter 7

Wonwoo paced his room anxiously, his overhead fan making the only noise. It had been exactly two days and seven hours since he’d received the text and still no reply. He wished with all his heart that he could be with Mingyu but Mingyu was visiting his father and Wonwoo didn’t want to bother him. His phone sat in the middle of his clean, well-made queen bed silently. The ringer had been turned up all the way and any spam numbers had been blocked so there wasn’t any possibility of anyone other than the blackmailer texting him. Just then, there was a buzz. Wonwoo nearly fell over the bed to reach his phone. 

 

_mingyu: he wants to meet you._

 

Wonwoo’s heart stopped. He was afraid to text back, his hands had begun shaking. _Mingyu’s father wants to meet me?_ Another buzz.

 

_mingyu: can you come over to the jail? i will wait for you outside._

_wonwoo: be right there._

 

At this point, Wonwoo didn’t really believe he had much of a choice, and besides, meeting Mingyu’s father seemed far more interesting than stressing about a number that might’ve already forgotten about it. His parents were out anyway—his father overseas in Yokohama, his mother God-knows-where. It was the best time to go.

 

\--

 

A chilly breeze blew through the air—it was almost 8:30 PM by the time he stepped outside the taxi. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his beige trenchcoat and caught sight of Mingyu sitting on a bench outside. He was wearing a grey blazer and collared white shirt, unbuttoned a bit. His dark hair had been tossed up with the wind but he still looked breathtaking. Wonwoo adjusted his turtleneck before taking a few hesitant steps toward him.

 

“Hey,” he said and Mingyu looked suddenly, giving the guise that he’d been lost in thought. “How’re you holding up?”

 

“Alright,” Mingyu responded. “I’m sorry I made you come all the way out here, I—”

 

Wonwoo waved away his apology with his hand. “Don’t worry. It’s better than moping around my house. My parents are gone anyway. Is your dad. . .?”

 

“In there, yeah,” Mingyu murmured. “He’s, um, heard a little about you.”

 

Wonwoo swallowed. “Like what?”

 

“He knows I met someone wealthy and famous,” Mingyu murmured as if he was trying to conceal something he’d said. 

 

“Mingyu. . . how much does he know?”

 

“Just that. . . that we’ve become very close. He doesn’t mind, truly. He says it’s good for me to know powerful people.”

 

Wonwoo’s gaze fell to the cement beneath their feet. “Right. Should we go? It’s getting late.”

 

“Visiting hours are until 9:30,” Mingyu stated, looking at his watch. “Let’s go.”

 

Wonwoo trailed Mingyu into the facility, through the security and drug checks, ignoring the strange stares he got from the personnel working inside. Someone of his social status wouldn’t be caught visiting someone in a jail, but Wonwoo had a feeling they wouldn’t say anything. Rich men were often prosecuted on drug charges from Wonwoo’s experience. As poor men could be.

 

Mingyu’s father was a tall man, revealing where Mingyu got his height. His face resembled Mingyu’s, except the nose was a bit smaller and there was a greying stubble on his chin. He was in the orange prison jumpsuit and had hooded ominous eyes. He looked like the kind of person that you wouldn’t want to meet in an alley at night. His gaze met Wonwoo’s immediately and almost sent a shiver down his spine. The name stitched onto the jumpsuit read, in dark bold English letters, _Kim Jin-Ho_.

 

“Mr. Kim, nice to meet you,” Wonwoo stammered, his terror breaking apart his words and making him sound like Korean wasn’t his first language.

 

“Mr. Jeon, I have heard a lot about you,” Kim said. “Not all of it from my son, it looks like.” He shot a glance at Mingyu, who broke his father’s gaze sheepishly. “Jeon Wonwoo. I never could’ve thought my own son would befriend someone like you. Where do you live, Jeon?”

 

“Guh—Gangnam-gu, sir,” Wonwoo answered, cursing himself for stuttering. “I live in Gangnam-gu.”

 

“Gangnam-gu,” Kim echoed. “Mingyu, may I have a word with Mr. Jeon alone?”

 

“Of course,” Mingyu said and turned around, leaving them alone in the room, the window divider the only thing separating them. Kim adjusted in his stool and motioned for Wonwoo to sit down. Wonwoo obliged, moving the mic so that it was comfortably in front of him.

 

“I see you met Mingyu,” Kim murmured. “Where did you meet?”

 

“Airport, sir,” Wonwoo answered. “I was dropping off my girlfriend and he was. . . waiting for you. I asked him if he needed a phone to call you.”

 

“I see. You have a girlfriend?”

 

“Yes sir,” Wonwoo replied. 

 

“You are happy with her?”

 

Wonwoo hesitated. He wasn’t happy fake-dating someone, but he sensed that Kim was getting at something—something involving Wonwoo and Mingyu being together. He wondered what exactly Mingyu had told him, but he decided to assume the best in that he hadn’t told him about their mini hookups in Jeon’s hotels. “Yes sir. I am happy with her. May I ask why you asked?”

 

“Mingyu says he likes being around you very much,” Kim mused. “I wanted to go ahead and assure myself that my son wasn’t in love with a very rich, powerful person such as yourself. You see, I am just looking out for him and I mean no offense when I say that you are not the person for him. In my experience, your people lie to ours, and then run away when we need them most.”

 

“Mr. Kim, that is just your experience,” Wonwoo protested meekly although he didn’t sound very convincing. He didn’t like the idea of Mingyu’s father not approving of him, even if they weren’t actually dating. He didn’t want Kim to have a bad view of him. “I’m not like that, honest.”

 

“I don’t want my son to fall for the same traps I did,” Kim whispered, his voice dripping with sudden, deadly venom. Wonwoo was taken aback at how he’d changed moods so quickly—from a caring father looking out for his son to a jealous druglord who wanted to control his son from behind the cell. “Don’t hang around with him, don’t touch him, don’t kiss him. My experience may be wrong but my intuition never lies. Get out and don’t come back unless I want you to.”

 

Wonwoo did just that, darting out of the room without a second word. He didn’t want to make Kim any angrier than he already was and he seemed pretty pissed. He didn’t know what had triggered him, but then he faintly recalled his and Mingyu’s talk on the rooftop of Apego—Mingyu had said he hadn’t seen the rich part of Seoul since he lived with his mother. _His mother must’ve been wealthy._ So that was why he didn’t want Mingyu around someone from Gangnam-gu—his mother had lied about her disease and ran away when Kim needed her and her money the most. Surgery was expensive and Wonwoo wondered if the Kims could’ve afforded her forged one if Mingyu’s mother had just paid for it. But then Wonwoo remembered Mingyu saying she’d disappeared and hadn’t contributed anything.

 

“What did he want to know?” Mingyu asked once Wonwoo closed the door and looked up at him.

 

“Just. . . just a little about my family, that’s all,” Wonwoo replied, lying through his teeth. “It was nothing bad, really. I um, think I’m just gonna stay out here for a little. You can go back in if you want,” Wonwoo said with a small smile.

 

“Um. . . okay, I guess. Just wait out here for me, I don’t want you to get lost or anything. It’s kind of a large area,” Mingyu explained before disappearing behind the door.

 

Wonwoo stood out for a few minutes, straining his ear to listen in on their conversation but all he could hear were a few muffled voices. He knew he’d done the wrong thing to lie to Mingyu about what his father had said, but he didn’t want Mingyu to leave his life. He felt like he’d really found something with Mingyu—he didn’t entirely know what but he knew it was _something_. Something, like a drug to a junkie, something he knew he didn’t need but wanted anyway. He felt like he could get high off Mingyu’s lips and drunk from Mingyu’s voice. He didn’t want to lose him.

 

“I’m ready,” Mingyu said, interrupting Wonwoo’s thoughts as he exited the room. “Thanks for waiting.” He began to walk forward and Wonwoo followed him. “I’m. . . I’m sorry if that was awkward. I just—”

 

“It wasn’t awkward, believe me.” But it was. Wonwoo would die if Mingyu ever asked him to come back, and if he didn’t die in that moment, Mingyu’s father would certainly kill him upon returning. “Where are we going?”

 

Mingyu stopped walking. They had yet to go back through the security checks but it seemed like time was moving too quickly. “It’s about nine, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, about nine.”

 

“It’s late,” Mingyu mused aloud.

 

“I sense something coming,” Wonwoo murmured lightheartedly to himself.

 

“Well. . .”

 

“You don’t have a ride? Is that it? How’d you get here anyway?”

 

Mingyu replied with an inaudible sentence, one that Wonwoo couldn’t hear, as though he exhaled the words.

 

“What?”

 

“I walked,” Mingyu replied, a bit louder. There was a tinge of pink on his cheeks. _Is he. . . blushing?_

 

“You’re. . . you’re not embarrassed, are you?” Wonwoo asked as they began to walk through the security check.

 

Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he held the door open for Wonwoo. “Wonwoo. . . I live near a jail. Within walking distance, actually! How did you get here, can I ask?”

 

“I took a taxi,” Wonwoo answered. “But that’s beside the point. Do you think I care that you can walk to a jail? It’s the only way you can see your dad, isn’t it? The only way you can be his son in front of him? Is that right?”

 

“Well, yeah, but—”

 

“Then don’t be embarrassed. Seriously.” Wonwoo took Mingyu’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb across his knuckles.

 

Mingyu gave him a small smile. “Thank you. So how are you getting home? Taxi?”

 

Wonwoo’s eyes searched the nearly empty road, for any sort of yellow vehicle. Of course, at this hour, they’d be dropping off and picking up drunken clubbers. There was no hope of finding a taxi now. “Maybe. . . maybe I’ll walk too.”

 

“All the way to Gangnam-gu? Might as well start, you’ll get there tomorrow morning.”

 

“Not there.” Wonwoo’s voice was quiet. “To your house. If that’s okay.”

 

Mingyu’s eyes widened, his jaw dropped a little. “To—to my house?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Wonwoo saw him swallow nervously. “Wonwoo, I don’t think you’d—”

 

“I don’t care. Just take me home, Mingyu.”

 

“It’s not a house,” Mingyu whispered, but Wonwoo caught it. “It’s a trailer. It’s what I’ve been living in since I can’t afford to pay for our old house. It’s got a king bed, kitchen, and bathroom and that’s about it. It doesn’t even have a couch. I’m sorry.”

 

“The king bed can fit two, can’t it?”

 

Mingyu exhaled. “Wonwoo, I think you’re gonna regret this. . .”

 

“I won’t. Lead the way.”

 

\--

 

It was a short, quiet walk. There was nothing to talk about and neither of them said anything, an atmosphere of awkwardness settling over them like mist to a lake. Wonwoo couldn’t help but anticipate what was to come—it wasn’t Mingyu’s trailer that he was specifically interested in anyway.

 

“This is it,” Mingyu said once they reached the muddy, dark trailer park. Outside, it wasn’t too dirty—Wonwoo couldn’t make out what color it was painted but he guessed it was white. The door was a light oak that hung sturdily on its hinges, with a few wooden stairs leading up to it. Mingyu held the door for him kindly, allowing him to take in the interior.

 

The lights flickered on as Mingyu turned the switch, dimly illuminating the kitchen. There was a door behind it, which Wonwoo believed was the bathroom. To the right of the kitchen, there was a dresser and a door, which could lead to the bedroom, Wonwoo thought. Next to the kitchen countertops was a small round table, with a set of three chairs. Wonwoo’s eyes immediately caught sight of something in the kitchen—it was a bowl of _japchae_ , sitting untouched in the sink. He gravitated towards it instantly.

 

“Mingyu! This looks amazing, where did you get it?”

 

“I made it, actually,” Mingyu responded, still standing by the doorway, taking his shoes off and hanging his blazer on the coatrack. Wonwoo had neglected the action—the japchae was calling his name and he’d had nothing but a bowl of cereal for dinner. He shoved his shoes off and rolled them over to the doorway, causing Mingyu to laugh.

 

“You didn’t tell me you could cook,” Wonwoo said. “This looks amazing.”

 

“Do you want some?” Mingyu asked. “I could heat it up for you or not if you like it cold.”

 

“No. . . I couldn’t. . .” Wonwoo definitely could, he wanted to, and Mingyu could read him too well—he knew he was lying. 

 

“I’ll heat some up,” Mingyu said with a laugh and Wonwoo smiled.

 

The japchae was amazing—Wonwoo had never tasted any this good in his whole lifetime of going in and out of famous bistros unimpressed. Mingyu ended up heating up some for himself too and Wonwoo smiled and showered him with compliments about the food.

 

“Are you ready for bed?” Mingyu asked as he left their plates in the sink and tossed away their disposable wooden chopsticks.

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo whispered. “Mingyu. . . thank you for dinner. It was really good. You’ve got some talent.”

 

“I’m talented in other things,” Mingyu said with a smirk, although he probably didn’t mean it to come off as suggestive as it did. “Cooking is just a hobby.” He followed Wonwoo into the bedroom.

 

It was a king bed with simple white sheets, unmade and nearly falling off the side. There was one nightstand to the side with a small, cheap lamp and outlet with a charging cable. To the left, an undersized dresser overflowing with clothes.

 

“Excuse the mess,” Mingyu said, flustered, rushing ahead of him to pull the sheets on the bed.

 

“No. . . it’s okay,” Wonwoo protested, walking forward. He reached out to stop him, and his hand grazed Mingyu’s. Mingyu paused at the touch, his eyes meeting Wonwoo’s. Without a doubt, there was something in his eyes—lust, maybe? Mingyu reached up and his other hand ghosted over Wonwoo’s waist before he took it away.

 

“Shouldn’t you take off your trenchcoat?” Mingyu asked, his voice husky. “It’s pretty warm in here already.”

 

“I should.” Wonwoo bit his lower lip. He studied Mingyu, not breaking eye contact as he took it off and threw it behind him carelessly. 

 

Mingyu’s hands traced Wonwoo’s sweater, and Wonwoo bent down a bit to get closer to Mingyu. The tension and desire hung heavy in the air as Mingyu’s hands settled on Wonwoo’s waist. “It’s a bit warm for a sweater too,” he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Wonwoo’s gently before finishing, “isn’t it?”

 

“Yes,” Wonwoo agreed. “Will you help me?” At this point, Wonwoo was letting his own desire do the talking, he wanted to feel Mingyu’s lips on his again. Mingyu pulled him farther on the bed, as rested his back against the wall, sitting at the head of the bed, and Wonwoo rested on his heavenly thighs, straddling him intimately. Mingyu tugged at Wonwoo’s sweater for a bit until he pulled it over his head swiftly. His hands trailed down Wonwoo’s tanned skin, going over his abs and leaving fire with his touch. Wonwoo’s hands came up to unbutton Mingyu’s shirt tantalizingly slow, not breaking eye contact. He left Mingyu’s shirt hanging off his shoulders, leaning forward and pushing his lips to Mingyu’s.

 

Mingyu kissed him back as Wonwoo’s hands trailed down his torso, moving over the swells and dips of his abs. All those nights of watching Mingyu dance, watching him be such a fucking _tease_ , watching him remove his clothing and fuck into the floor had left Wonwoo’s lips dry and body empty, and he savored this moment—the moment where Mingyu was all his, mind, body, and soul. 

 

Mingyu tugged gently at Wonwoo’s lower lip, eliciting a gasp from the older. “Do you—ah—want this?”

 

Wonwoo kissed him hard, drinking in his lips and letting Mingyu’s alcohol run through his veins. “Yes. . . I want you, Mingyu. Dance for me.”

 

That set Mingyu off, his tongue slipping in Wonwoo’s mouth, his hands gripping Wonwoo tighter, harder, bringing him closer so he could feel his hardening member against him. Wonwoo’s hands fumbled with Mingyu’s belt as Mingyu’s kisses moved from Wonwoo’s lips to his jaw and down to his neck.

 

For a moment, Wonwoo paused, basking in the pure ecstasy that Mingyu was giving him, his mouth hanging slightly open, eyes rolled back and head tilted slightly as Mingyu’s mouth worked its magic. Mingyu gently pushed Wonwoo down on the bed, kissing him all the while. Wonwoo eventually gave up on unbuckling Mingyu’s belt as Mingyu began to do it for him, and his hands tangled in Mingyu’s hair. This time, Mingyu was ruthless, leaving as many hickeys as he could and Wonwoo loved it.

 

“Ah. . . Mingyu. . . please. . .” Wonwoo begged, his eyes opening a crack. “More. . .”

 

Mingyu left a final hickey and sat up to admire his work. Wonwoo was breathless beneath him, eyes clouded with lust and mouth hanging open just a bit, collarbone and neck decorated with Mingyu’s bruises. Wonwoo reached up and laced his arms around Mingyu’s neck, bringing him back in for another kiss, desperate for more.

 

This time, Mingyu didn’t waste any time. He tugged Wonwoo’s pants off after taking off his own and cupped him through his boxers. Wonwoo gasped at the touch but didn’t stop kissing him. Mingyu, however, did stop kissing him abruptly to make eye contact with the breathless boy beneath him.

 

“You sure you want this?” he asked in a careful tone. When he was touching Wonwoo, he was the sexy stripper from a backwoods strip club but now, he was the boy at the airport, making tentative eye contact with the wealthy investor’s son.

 

“Kiss me again,” Wonwoo begged. “I want this, please.”

 

Mingyu kissed Wonwoo again, tangling their tongues together. He pulled Wonwoo’s boxers off slowly, so they hung on his thighs, and then all the way off. Wonwoo’s hands moved from Mingyu’s neck to the hem of his boxers. Mingyu groaned slightly, but the sound was enough to make Wonwoo melt under him, make his legs feel like jelly. Wonwoo had hooked up with people before, girls and boys, but he didn’t remember them or his experience. Either that or he never came at their hands. He had a good feeling about where he was tonight however, and it helped greatly that Mingyu just dripped sex appeal.

 

Mingyu was big, as Wonwoo would learn, big enough to want him inside him. He kept kissing the younger, but couldn’t focus too much on his lips—the idea of Mingyu inside of him was enough to make him tremble with desire. Mingyu’s hands began to make their way down until one of them was around Wonwoo’s dripping member and the other teasingly on his ass.

 

“Don’t tease. . . Gyu. . .” Wonwoo gasped. His heart was beating too fast and he was too hard for him to tease. Eventually, Mingyu gave in and slipped a finger in his waiting entrance. Wonwoo moaned out loud, the sound causing him to blush heavily and cover it with his palm.

 

Mingyu smirked. “Don’t be embarrassed Wonwoo, that was a beautiful sound~.” He kissed Wonwoo once more, but it was all tongue and barely any lip. Wonwoo’s walls were already clenched around Mingyu’s finger, and he was whining for another.

 

When Mingyu added a second digit, Wonwoo realized that he was truly an expert at sex, from his words to his voice to his actions. He was a magician and Wonwoo wanted him to ruin him. He wanted to fall apart in Mingyu’s hands, wanted to belong to Mingyu in every aspect. As Mingyu added in a third finger, he felt like he could see heaven and hell and he knew he would never be able to have sex with anyone else. No more one-night-stands, no more summer flings, _no one_ would be able to make him feel this way. No one but Kim Mingyu. And Mingyu wasn’t even inside him yet.

 

“Mingyu. . . please. . .” Wonwoo gasped. Mingyu removed his hand from Wonwoo’s member, now tracing up and down Wonwoo’s thighs. He was teasing again, and Wonwoo wouldn’t last. Mingyu smirked against Wonwoo’s lips and basked in Wonwoo’s breathlessness. Wonwoo knew he was ready for Mingyu, he would die if Mingyu didn’t provide.

 

Fortunately, Mingyu figured that out, taking his fingers out and licking them clean of Wonwoo’s precum. Wonwoo let out a breathless moan at the lewd sight.

 

“You taste so good, baby,” Mingyu said with a suggestive smirk.

 

“Stop teasing. . .” Wonwoo breathed. 

 

Mingyu gave him a playful frown, resting his elbows on either side of Wonwoo’s head, looking him straight in the eyes. “Teasing is all the fun, isn’t it?”

 

“Gyu, please,” Wonwoo begged.

 

“Say my name,” Mingyu commanded, eyes hooded. He took Wonwoo’s chin in between his thumb and forefinger, forcing the flustered older to make eye contact. “Say it.”

 

“Mingyu~!” Wonwoo cried, fulfilling Mingyu’s desire and begging for the emptiness around his entrance to be filled.

 

“That’s beautiful, baby,” Mingyu complimented huskily. He positioned himself at Wonwoo’s entrance and pushed in slowly. 

 

Wonwoo moaned loudly, hands flying up in Mingyu’s hair. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes, but he was in heaven. He was on a high, the holy ecstasy of the whole thing was too much to bear. As he got used to Mingyu’s cock inside him, he felt so complete, so _so_ good. His lips found Mingyu’s neck and he kissed him hungrily, bathing in Mingyu’s husky compliments and heavenly groans of Wonwoo’s name.

 

Wonwoo sucked heavily on a patch of skin and Mingyu’s hand came down to jack Wonwoo off slowly. Too slow. He was teasing again.

 

“Fuck, Gyu,” Wonwoo gasped. “Faster. . . ah!”

 

Mingyu complied eagerly, thrusting hard and fast into him. Wonwoo all but screamed his name—all that came out was a sharp moan followed by him biting his lip to keep quiet.

 

Mingyu jacked Wonwoo off in time with his movements and leaned closer to Wonwoo. “Those noises you make are so cute, baby~ don’t try to hide them, no one will hear.”

 

“Ah! Mingyu!” Wonwoo screamed as Mingyu hit his prostate, the sensitive bundle of nerves that sent the pleasure straight to his brain. “Right there, don’t stop! Ah. . . yes!”

 

Mingyu moved faster, Wonwoo could feel himself approaching his climax. Mingyu got more vocal as well and Wonwoo could tell he was close too. Wonwoo’s hands dragged down Mingyu’s back, his stomach knotted, his mind too clouded with pleasure to produce a single thought.

 

“Duh—don’t stop. . . ah! Gyu, I’m so close—” 

 

“Fuck, you’re so hot. So tight. . . ah,” Mingyu whispered, eyes closed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Will you come for me, baby?”

 

“Yuh—yes,” Wonwoo gasped. Then, he felt his orgasm hit him head-on. “Ah, Gyu!” He arched his spine, fingers tangled in Mingyu’s feathery dark hair, toes curled into the pillows as he reached his climax. He could see stars, feeling his vision go white for a second and he was flying. Mingyu pulled out briskly, releasing himself all over Wonwoo’s stomach in thin, white streaks.

 

He then collapsed, his head landing on Wonwoo’s sweaty chest, breathing heavily. “Wuh. . . Wonwoo. . . that was amazing. . . thank you.”

 

Wonwoo pushed some of his hair out of his eyes, for it had matted to his forehead with sweat. “You’re so talented, Mingyu. I. . . no one’s gonna. . . make me feel like that. No one ever has.”

 

Mingyu wrapped his hands around Wonwoo’s torso. “Good. So you’ll think of me every time you do that with someone.” He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, mouth opened as he regained his normal breathing pattern. “We should get cleaned up and go to bed.” He crossed the room, leaving Wonwoo naked and still out-of-breath.

 

It took a bit to register what had just happened. _I, Jeon Wonwoo, have just slept with a stripper._ Not just any stripper, it was Kim Mingyu, the goddamn sexiest man Wonwoo had ever seen. He propped himself up on his elbows so he could close his eyes and calm his still-racing heart. He turned around so that his head was on the pillows instead of the other way around. He stared up at the rather low ceiling, trying to let it all sink in.

 

He really _had_ just had sex with Kim Mingyu.

 

Mingyu returned a few seconds later with a wet towel and some dry rags. He wiped Wonwoo’s stomach off with a meek apology, face tinted pink, even in the dark room, Wonwoo could see. He tossed the rags away thoughtlessly and set the towel to dry before crawling back in bed with Wonwoo. He wrapped his arms around Wonwoo’s shoulders protectively and nuzzled his face in Wonwoo’s hair.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked after a while.

 

“Nothing, I just. . . feel a bit bare,” Wonwoo explained quietly, embarrassed of his naked body.

 

Mingyu slipped out of the bed nimbly and grabbed something.

 

It was his white collared shirt that he’d been wearing before.

 

“Here,” he murmured, a little flustered. “It’s mine, I hope you don’t mind.”

 

“No, of course not,” Wonwoo said nonchalantly. In reality, he was ecstatic to wear another garment of Mingyu’s clothes, he liked the way they fit loosely, liked the way the sleeves extended past his fingers and the hem to his thighs. He slipped it on quickly, buttoning it just a little. Then, he fell back on the bed, turning over so Mingyu could spoon him intimately, his arms around his waist. Wonwoo gripped his hand and brought it to his chest so Mingyu was closer. Their bodies cupped each other like hands, and Wonwoo felt his heart soar. He closed his eyes, feeling total and complete bliss.

 

Just then, Kim’s words rang clear in Wonwoo’s ears. _Don’t hang around him, don’t touch him, don’t kiss him._

 

Wonwoo brought Mingyu’s hand to his mouth, giving his palm a delicate kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

Wonwoo’s eyes snapped open on impulse. He might’ve been having another nightmare, but if he was, he didn’t remember. Or he just wasn’t in the position to have nightmares—with Mingyu’s arms around him, and quiet, steady breaths from his mouth, it was hard to imagine such terrible things. 

 

He knew he wouldn’t fall back asleep and needed to get up at some reasonable time. But Mingyu’s arms were so warm, his chest felt so good against Wonwoo’s back. . . it took Wonwoo a moment to actually remember the previous night—breathless moans, ceaseless pleasure and a feeling of fulfillment on both ends. Wonwoo wanted to go back, but it was already done. 

 

Just then, he heard a miscellaneous buzzing. His pants were across the room, having been thoughtlessly discarded in the heat of the moment.

 

He slipped out of Mingyu’s arms, wincing when he heard the man groan but not wake up. His ass was royally sore, which he found quite humorous in retrospect. Wonwoo adjusted the shirt he was wearing—Mingyu’s shirt?—and rustled through the pile of clothes to find his pants. He reached in the pocket and pulled out his phone—it was definitely _his_ phone that buzzed.

 

_Unknown Number: We have decided. Write a check for ₩3,000,000,000 and we will tell you where to send it once you have._

 

Wonwoo’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. _Three billion won?! I can’t afford that!_ His trust fund would be able to provide, but there was no way he would be able to take out that much money without it being suspicious. He began to wonder if it would just be better to let them turn it in to some local newspaper and let the headlines run their courses.

 

Wonwoo glanced at the phone and back at Mingyu’s sleeping figure. He was naked in the bed, his back turned to Wonwoo and feathery black hair sprawled out elegantly on the white pillow, tan skin a stark contrast against the white sheets. He looked peaceful, sleeping too soundly to notice Wonwoo had slipped out of his arms. Wonwoo had to go back, and there would be more taxis at this hour anyway. He changed back into his clothes after a quick search for them and wrote a quick note to Mingyu with careful handwriting.

 

_Mingyu,_

_Thank you for last night, it was amazing. I had to go early but I won’t forget it. Please don’t stress and don’t think I left because of you._

_Wonwoo_

 

\--

 

The clock hit 12 PM as Wonwoo sat at his father’s personal desktop, reading glasses teetering on his nose as he scrolled through documents in every language imaginable. His parents were still out so he was glad he would be able to have access to his dad’s computer. The password was changed every three weeks and today was the final day before it would be changed again tomorrow. 

 

He typed in a web address to the bank and entered in his father’s username and password. Luckily, this URL wasn’t fingerprint-protected, so it was easy for Wonwoo to access, seeing as he’d memorized his father’s bank information.

 

The balance in his trust fund was currently five billion won—an average amount for a kid in his status. There was no way he would be able to remove three fifths of that without his father, mother, and maybe even Bohyuk getting a notification. Then, he checked his father’s balance. It was much, much more than five billion won. The bank they used had a daily limit which was far too little for having this much money—they could only take out a little over two million won each day (for non-emergencies), and this proved to be a nuisance. 

 

Wonwoo decided he would take out half from his father’s account and half from his trust fund. He knew he’d need to lie—he was going to say he bought another expensive painting for his mother. It wasn’t exactly false—her birthday was coming up and Wonwoo still needed a gift. However, he knew the daughter of the owner of an art studio—had been involved with her for about a month when he was a freshman and knew just the right strings to pull to get a huge discount on expensive paintings. If he was gonna lie, he was gonna do it right.

 

Just then, his phone buzzed. Twice, to be exact. Wonwoo read the messages instantly.

 

_mingyu: please come to svt tonight, i really need to talk to you._

_sana: your father is with mine right now. i will be coming back to korea for a little bit for her birthday, i hope that isn’t a problem, i’m sorry!_

 

Wonwoo sent a quick reply to Mingyu, promising his attendance and stared at Sana’s text. He never hated Sana, but when she was around, that always meant more publicity for them—Jeon would make them go shopping and on fake dates just to feed the public eye and let the media know they were still dating. And if he had to be with Sana 24/7, that meant less time to deal with the issue of the photograph. Not to mention less time with Mingyu. His ass was still sore.

 

_wonwoo: it’s okay. i have some things i’d like to talk to you about anyway._

_sana: good, i’m always here to listen_

 

Wonwoo let out a breath in relief. He wanted to tell her about Mingyu, he knew she would keep quiet. He also wanted to tell her about the blackmail and get her opinion, he couldn’t technically pay off the blackmailer because of the restrictions on the bank account. Then, his phone rang again.

 

 _“Wonwoo.”_ It was Jeon. He didn’t sound pissed though, so Wonwoo took that as a good sign.

 

“Dad. I hear you’re in Japan?”

 

_“Yes. Sana will be returning with me. I want you two to make sure the public knows you’re still dating her. She’ll also be spending your mother’s birthday here. Her mother has just come out with a clothing line for men and women so you’ll be wearing it. I will bring back some clothes. You understand?”_

 

“Yes,” Wonwoo said, reluctance seeping into his voice.

 

 _“Good. I will be back tomorrow morning.”_ Jeon hung up briskly.

 

Wonwoo covered his hands with his palms in defeat. He didn’t know how to tell Mingyu this— _The reason I can’t come to SVT is because I gotta hang around my fake girlfriend that I’m not attracted to._ He had a feeling Mingyu would understand but that didn’t stop him from feeling bad about it. Going to SVT every night felt like something Wonwoo had been doing for years instead of just weeks and he didn’t like the idea of blowing it off for something he couldn’t control.

 

Not to mention, he was all too nervous for what Mingyu had to say to him.

 

\--

 

It was eight by the time Wonwoo arrived. There weren’t many people at all—just a few older women sipping rum as they chatted amongst themselves, stealing the occasional glance at the dancer—Minhyuk, Wonwoo remembered.

 

He used the back entrance that Joshua had taught him and nobody seemed to question it. Mingyu wasn’t there. _Maybe he hasn’t come yet._ It was stupid, thinking that Mingyu’s shift could start so early. Now there was nobody to talk to, except for Minhyuk, who (1) was working and (2) didn’t know Wonwoo very well.

 

He strolled down the hallway, passing by a few private changing rooms with name he didn’t bother to read. Then, one caught his eye. Written in gold lettering, a plaque next to the door reading _Minnie_.

 

“Minnie?” Wonwoo murmured to himself. A female stripper? There weren’t any female strippers—this was a _male_ strip club.

 

“You’re that rich guy that comes here, right? Jeon, was it?”

 

Wonwoo turned around quickly to see a short, handsome young man with messy yet pretty chestnut hair falling across his forehead and light skin. He was wearing a white collared shirt with a tie loosely hanging off his neck.

 

“Sorry, we must not’ve met yet. Who are you?”

 

The man held out his hand. “Lee Chan.” He had a strange accent, but it wasn’t that of a foreigner’s. He wasn’t from Seoul, it was more of a regional accent.

 

Wonwoo shook it tenderly. It had been a long time since he’d shaken someone’s hand. Chan stood with his hands in his pockets, as if he was waiting for Wonwoo to say something or ask him a question. 

 

 _Lee Chan. . ._ He knew he’d heard that name before. He faintly recalled Mingyu speaking about him—he wasn’t a dancer, he was too young. But Wonwoo wasn’t entirely sure—his memory from that night when they had first kissed didn’t exactly serve him well.

 

“You’re not a dancer, are you?” Wonwoo asked.

 

“Nah. My dad’s a bouncer here and I don’t got anything better to do back home so I like to come here. Your name’s Wonwoo, right?”

 

Wonwoo nodded. “Don’t you have school? How old are you?”

 

Chan turned up his nose. “Mind your own business.”

 

Wonwoo gave a small smile. “Fine. I’m sure Mingyu knows anyway.”

 

“Okay okay, I’m sixteen.”

 

“Then you do have school. Don’t you have work to do?”

 

Chan rubbed his arm. “Sometimes a little. But I do it here.”

 

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Really? And you get work done here?”

 

“Why are you even here?” Chan retorted. “You’re so rich, you could probably buy out this club with the money in your pocket.”

 

“I’m here for my own reasons,” Wonwoo replied briskly. “And I’m not buying out the club.”

 

Chan’s eyes darted from the nameplate next to the door and back to Wonwoo’s. “Your own reasons, eh? Like Minnie?”

 

“I don’t know who Minnie is,” Wonwoo said. “I’m just looking for Mingyu.”

 

Chan laughed out loud. “You must be dumb then, ‘cause they’re the same fuckin’ person.”

 

Wonwoo felt heat rise to his cheeks. “What?”

 

“Minnie is Mingyu’s stripper name, dumbass,” Chan said, laughing a bit harder. “You really ain’t got a clue, do ya?”

 

“Seokmin. . . Seokmin told me who he was,” Wonwoo explained, blushing. “He called him Mingyu rather than Minnie. It sounds kinda like that Disney mouse to be honest.”

 

“Maybe, but the regulars eat it up,” Chan said. “You shoulda seen them the other night!” He clasped his hands in front of his face and fluttered his eyelashes femininely. “ _Oh Minnie! You’re so sexy! Grind on my face Minnie! Wanna come over to my house to fuck after your shift, baby?_ ” He laughed once more. “Yeom don’t really do the whole “stripper name” thing anyway. Thinks it’s stupid. He introduces them as they are if somebody special asks him. Nobody really asks him though. It’s usually Kwan and Kwan won’t tell you Hansolie’s name if you ask him. He and Hansolie are dating, didja know?”

 

“I figured,” Wonwoo said, remembering the time when the two exchanged a domestic kiss after Hansol’s shift. However, he didn’t stop thinking about the women, yelling Mingyu’s stripper name, _Minnie_. It wasn’t like he was jealous. . . maybe just a little. “When is Mingyu coming?”

 

Chan looked at his watch. “Probably soon. Why?” Suddenly, his eyes widened. “You’re fucking Minnie, ain’t ya?”

 

Wonwoo’s eyes widened in Chan’s conclusion. _It’s the other way around. . ._ “What makes you say that?”

 

“He always comes to his shifts asking ‘bout some guy and whether he’s here. Then Minhyukie tells him no and he gets pissy. Gets angry for the rest of his shift. But last night, he went to visit his daddy and that makes him pissy too. ‘Cept, he wasn’t pissy. He texted Hoonzi real early in the morning, tellin’ him he might or might not show up for work today. Bet he’ll show up ‘cause you’re here now.”

 

“He texted?”

 

“Yeah,” Chan said. “If you can’t show up for whatever reason, you gotta give a heads-up text at least twelve hours before your shift starts. Hoonzi’s daddy owns this fucker, so the easiest thing to do is just text him.”

 

Wonwoo nodded, his insides turning at how easily Chan cursed. Wonwoo couldn’t say that he didn’t curse, but Chan seemed to swear like he was speaking normally. “Where’re you from?”

 

“Iksan. Don’t the accent give it away? I though everyone knew it,” Chan said with a shake of his head. “I’ll have you know that Hannie likes it, he says it makes me sound youthful.”

 

 _Hannie?_ “You certainly curse like my father,” Wonwoo added. “And he curses a lot.”

 

“Yeah well, your father is loaded so I bet he got a fuck ton o’ reasons to curse.”

 

“Hey, Chan and. . . Wonwoo?”

 

The two turned around at the voice to see Seungkwan poking his head through the doorway of the back. 

 

“Kwannie!” Chan exclaimed. “Nonu here wants to know when Minnie’s comin’.” He jabbed his thumb in Wonwoo’s direction.

 

_Nonu?_

 

“Don’t know,” Seungkwan said. “Since you guys don’t look like you’re doing anything, come help me wipe down the tables.”

 

“Coming!” Chan called before turning his gaze back to Wonwoo. “See, Nonu? When you come early ‘cause of your own desires, you get to work for Kwannie for no money.”

 

\--

 

The women had left and it was now almost nine, almost opening time, and Chan was wiping down the tables closest to the stage while Seungkwan was washing a few glasses as Wonwoo did the counter. “Is Chan always so. . .”

 

“Informal?” Seungkwan offered. “Yeah. He’s the youngest but he practically owns this place. Even Jihoon admits it, Chan could take it over and he would let it happen.”

 

“I’ve never heard anyone call me anything besides Wonwoo or Jeon.” Wonwoo chuckled to himself as he tossed the dirty rag in the trash can.

 

“Yeah, that happens too,” Seungkwan explained. “He’s got nicknames for all of us. Did you ever learn Mingyu’s, um, stripper name?” Wonwoo nodded and Seungkwan continued. “Well, that’s thanks to Channie. He’s really comfortable and confident and just started calling us by our nicknames. Mingyu especially liked his.”

 

“Who’s Hannie?” Wonwoo asked, feeling a bit embarrassed for not knowing the name Chan had casually mentioned. 

 

“Hannie. . .” Seungkwan thought for a moment. “Jeonghan. He calls Seokmin “Yeom”, Jihoon “Hoonzi”, Joshua “Soo”, and Minghao “Eight-gē”. I think those are the nicknames that aren’t really that obvious but I might be forgetting some. Guess we’ll have to add “Nonu” to the mix, huh? Do you like it?”

 

“Nonu. . .” Wonwoo smiled at the nickname. It was childish and cute, and he actually enjoyed it. “Yeah. Dunno how he came up with it but. . .”

 

“It’s the thought that counts,” Seungkwan said through a small chuckle. “You’ll get used to the informality. Look, here’s Mingyu now.”

 

Seungkwan pointed to the door where Mingyu was just entering, followed by a few other dancers working the night shift. Minhyuk had left so there was nobody dancing currently, but there was also no one in the club, which Seungkwan enjoyed.

 

Wonwoo caught Mingyu’s eyes from across the space and they flickered for a bit before Mingyu motioned to the door to backstage. Wonwoo followed him, dropping the rag on the table. Seungkwan yelled at him to return but Wonwoo didn’t hear him. Eventually Seungkwan gave up.

 

“Hey,” Mingyu whispered. “How are you?”

 

Wonwoo gave a small smile. “Actually, I’m kinda sore.”

 

Mingyu let out a loud laugh. He laced his fingers with Wonwoo’s and kissed his knuckles. “You’re golden, I swear. Come on, I gotta change. You can help me.”

 

Wonwoo smiled and followed Mingyu into his private changing room.

 

The room was small, with a rack of clothing and all sorts of harnesses and belts laying around it. There was a large mirror next to the door and a couch next to the clothing rack.

 

Wonwoo picked up a harness. It was far too complicated for him to want to put it on Mingyu—he was getting a headache just looking at it.

 

“We usually just go with a BDSM theme. I hope that’s not a problem?” Mingyu asked, eyes flickering. He walked forward, his hands resting on Wonwoo’s hips. “I’m sure you’d look. . . breathtaking. Can you dance, Wonwoo?”

 

“I met Chan today. He calls me Nonu.”

 

“Nonu,” Mingyu repeated, letting the syllables bounce off his tongue. “I like it. Can you dance, Nonu?”

 

Wonwoo chuckled. “I don’t know if you’re hinting at something, but I can’t dance. I can do classical dances though, if that’s what you need.”

 

Mingyu smiled and pressed his lips to the side of Wonwoo’s mouth. “It’s alright. I wasn’t hinting at anything. But imagine. . . imagine if I could hold you like this out there. . . hey, did you meet Junhui and Minghao yet?”

 

Wonwoo shook his head. “Mm-mm.”

 

“They’re really in love,” Mingyu explained, lips inches from Wonwoo’s. “They were just fanservice at first but then it started sinking in. You might see them, they’re very. . . public with their love.”

 

“Does that mean dry-humping on the stage?” Wonwoo asked.

 

“Mm. . . maybe.” Mingyu pushed his lips against Wonwoo’s. “You know. . .” he said between messy kisses, “about last night. . . I can’t stop thinking about it. . . normally I’d be kinda embarrassed to meet you after something like that, but. . .”

 

“Shh,” Wonwoo commanded, pulling apart from him lightly. “Pick out what you need, I’ll help you change. Unless you wanna do it yourself.”

 

Mingyu frowned. “No.” 

 

Wonwoo waited patiently as Mingyu picked up a few different harnesses—most of them smaller—and tight black pants that would inevitably drive Wonwoo crazy. Then, he dropped them into Wonwoo’s waiting hands and backed up so that he sat on the couch, arms resting across the top, legs open.

 

Wonwoo lowered himself onto Mingyu intimately, straddling his thighs. He placed the pile of harnesses next to him and selected one at random.

 

“Do you have an order? Like what goes on first?” he asked.

 

“Meh.” Mingyu shrugged nonchalantly. “Whatever’s easiest. It’s up to you.”

 

Heart pounding, Wonwoo selected a harness from the pile. “Just one?”

 

“Just one for tonight, Nonu.” 

 

Wonwoo nodded. He let his hands fall down Mingyu’s chest before curling his fingers under the hem of Mingyu’s shirt and pulling it over his head gently. Once again, he left tender touches on Mingyu’s abdomen, relishing in the sharp exhale he let out. Then, he untangled the harness to the best of his ability before wrapping his arms around Mingyu’s chest and connecting the two sides of the accessory and tightening it just enough.

 

“It’s on. Don’t you have to go work?”

 

Mingyu kept his hands on Wonwoo’s waist, eyes still searching his, as if he was waiting for something else. “Yeah.” He pressed his lips to Wonwoo’s and Wonwoo melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Mingyu’s neck. Mingyu’s kisses began to travel downwards—from Wonwoo’s cheek to his jaw and finally to his neck, where he left intimate open-mouthed kisses.

 

“Gyu. . .” Wonwoo’s hands tangled in Mingyu’s silky hair. “Nuh. . . no hickeys. . . my family will see. . .”

 

Mingyu pulled away slightly but then kept kissing his neck. Luckily, he adhered to Wonwoo’s request and left nothing visible. Wonwoo let out a gasp when his kisses slowed down, sucking gently on one patch of skin. Wonwoo tilted his head back and opened his mouth, as if he was trying to moan but nothing came out. Instead, Mingyu finished off with one final, delicate kiss before letting Wonwoo catch his breath.

 

“I have to work,” he said, tone playful as he pulled away. He knew it would drive Wonwoo crazy.

 

It certainly did. Wonwoo frowned. “Whatever.” He pushed his lips back against Mingyu’s again and Mingyu kissed him back hungrily. A sudden memory of the previous night flashed in Wonwoo’s mind, sparking newfound lust at the idea of having sex with Mingyu again.

 

“I guess Minnie really ain’t workin’ tonight, huh Hoonzi?”

 

Chan’s voice brought the two to reality and Wonwoo scrambled off of Mingyu’s lap, his face burning. Mingyu seemed unfazed—one of his hands snaked around Wonwoo’s waist.

 

“Mingyu, I don’t care that you want a quick fuck but at least save it for after,” Jihoon monotoned. Chan giggled as Wonwoo’s face grew redder. “If you want, you can orgasm on stage and I won’t tell my dad.”

 

“Nonu would like that wouldn’t he?” Chan asked and Wonwoo decided he wanted to strangle the sixteen-year-old.

 

Jihoon hit him lightly in the upper arm to get him to shut up. “Just be on stage in five minutes. You should open, there’s lots of people.”

 

“It’s Monday.”

 

“People still come,” Jihoon said. “And you’re getting paid, so why do you care? Just be out there.”

 

Mingyu sighed it. “Okay.”

 

Chan pointed and laughed silently, taunting him before Jihoon took his hand and lead him away from the room.

 

“Work hard, Minnie.”

 

Mingyu stopped walking. “What did you say?”

 

“Minnie.” Wonwoo didn’t care that Mingyu’s voice hitched on the last syllable or that he took a step closer to him upon hearing him repeat the name.

 

Mingyu gripped Wonwoo’s cheeks, forcing the older to look at him. “Say it again.”

 

“Minnie.”

 

Mingyu pushed his lips to Wonwoo’s breathlessly, his tongue slipping immediately into Wonwoo’s mouth. “Ah—again,” Mingyu commanded.

 

“Muh. . . Minnie,” Wonwoo obliged, his fingers latching onto Mingyu’s harness. “Minnie.”

 

Mingyu drew in another sharp breath before kissing Wonwoo long and hard. “Oh Christ, just one more time, please.”

 

“Minnie,” Wonwoo said once more before kissing him. “If you like it so much, why didn’t you just tell me?”

 

“I wasn’t sure how you would feel about it. I’m Mingyu to you, or Gyu if you’re getting fucked.” Mingyu winked and Wonwoo felt himself redden. “I gotta go though, sorry baby. You can hang out here while I work or you can go out and watch.”

 

Wonwoo gave a small smile. “Maybe I’ll go out. I might slap Chan though.”

 

“Good.”

 

\--

 

Wonwoo sat at the table in the back that he usually ended up at and ordered a small glass of vodka from Seokmin, who was ready to take his order.

 

“See, I knew you were fucking,” Chan exclaimed, taking a seat. “Now that you’re here, I won’t gotta follow Hoonzi around all night. He comes here for “business instead of pleasure”,” Chan said with a roll of his eyes, putting up air quotes.

 

“That’s probably ‘cause his dad owns this place,” Wonwoo said. “It’s not that deep, he’s just helping his dad.”

 

“Yeah, well his daddy must got a whole lotta shit goin’ on in his life for him to never come to work.”

 

Seokmin placed Wonwoo’s drink on the table and Wonwoo thanked him before turning his attention back to the energetic younger sitting across from him. “Sometimes I’ve gotta do stuff for my dad. I’m gonna inherit his empire if you didn’t know and he doesn’t trust me. He thinks I’m a disappointment and makes sure I know he prefers my younger brother.”

 

“No offense, but why doesn’t he just have your brother inherit it if he likes him so much?”

 

“He’s studying abroad in America right now and besides, it’s tradition,” Wonwoo explained. “In wealthy families, the older sibling always takes priority. He doesn’t like me though.”

 

“He got a reason?”

 

Wonwoo sipped his vodka and placed the glass back on the table. There was a reason. It was Sana. Sana was the Jeon’s one-way trip into the Minatozaki fashion empire but unfortunately, Sana’s parents still believe Wonwoo when he had suggested creating a shared stock for both of the companies. Wonwoo barely ever went to Japan and couldn’t speak Japanese. Sana’s parents, while they wanted the money that came from Wonwoo and Sana’s relationship, didn’t want Jeon to have a share of the revenue brought in by the Minatozaki fashion line. Jeon, naturally, concluded that Wonwoo was the problem. But he couldn’t tell Chan that. “Yeah. But it’s just petty shit like my grades. He doesn’t trust me.”

 

“Sucks,” Chan said, mock sympathy in his voice. His eyes flickered to Wonwoo’s liquor before meeting his gaze again. “You gonna finish that?”

 

“You’re sixteen, Chan,” Wonwoo reminded. “Drinking age’s nineteen.”

 

“Well if you’re gonna be like that, it’s Mr. Lee,” Chan retorted with a frown. “I ain’t allowed to order alcohol here, Yeom and Kwannie won’t let me.

 

“Your dad’s here too, isn’t he?”

 

Chan shrugged. “Dunno. We got some money problems at home and he’s. . . forget it.”

 

“Tell me,” Wonwoo commanded. “Who am I gonna tell? And with what reason?”

 

Chan sighed. “I’m not tellin’ you, you got a whole lotta influence over this part of town.”

 

“Does Mingyu know?”

 

“Yeah, the dancers, Yeom, Kwannie, and Hoonzi know. I dunno if I want you to know though.”

 

“You know, I might be able to help. . . I know a lotta people don’t want charity but if it’s a big deal, I could get you some money,” Wonwoo offered. “It’s not charity if you pay me back anyway.”

 

“I guess. . .” Chan murmured, discomfort showing. Wonwoo felt bad for him, but he would definitely do what he could if he needed to. “So we got money issues at home and my mom’s not much help ‘cause she’s always stoned. And so, when she’s stoned, my daddy goes out to fuck the bank teller lady for extra shit—like food stamps and lower rent and whatever the hell else we need. Fucked up. So he ain’t always here even though he gets paid more than the dancers anyway. It’s too risky, I bet he’ll be fired soon enough. And then we’ll skip town again and it’ll start all over again. My mom always knows where to get her weed, I’ll tell you that. Must be so good she don’t realize when her husband comes back much later than he gets off with a couple o’ hickeys on his neck.”

 

“That sucks,” Wonwoo said genuinely. “You want some cash for your rent? Tell your dad to come back to his real job so he can make a more constant amount. I’ll give you something.”

 

“Keep your money,” Chan spat. “I never said I was gonna accept your cash did I? This is my own damn problem and it ain’t yours. So mind your own business and don’t go blabbin’ to the banks.”

 

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Wonwoo said, hoping Chan wasn’t too mad at him. “You coulda just said no. And for the record, my mom’s stoned too.”

 

“Great, now we can start a fucking club.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit on the longer side ahaha, I'm so sorry I've been swamped with school and athletics commitments (seeing as I plan to go to college for athletics, I can't totally miss them) but I hope you enjoy!


	9. Chapter 9

Mingyu pushed Wonwoo against the door, immediately shutting it behind him. He kissed him with mad desire, his lips dancing with Wonwoo’s in every way. Eventually, he began to trail closed-mouth kisses on the side of Wonwoo’s lips and his jaw. Wonwoo laced his fingers in Mingyu’s hair, little gasps coming from his mouth every time Mingyu’s tongue come into contact with his skin.

 

“Gyu. . .” Wonwoo gasped. “I. . . huh. . . have to tell you something. . .”

 

Mingyu pulled apart from Wonwoo’s neck in the slightest, not even a centimeter away from his skin. “What is it?” His voice was husky from disuse, and his hot breath fanned across Wonwoo’s skin, making the older need to restrain himself from shuddering. He was only on his break—still having another two or so hours before he got off. His break was only half an hour, and they’d already spent ten minutes making out. 

 

Wonwoo fished for his phone in his pocket, keeping his other hand threaded in Mingyu’s hair. It was slick with sweat but still soft and pretty in his fingers. He pulled out his phone and Mingyu pulled away from him, eyes searching his. Then, he entered the passcode and showed Mingyu his texts from the blackmailer.

 

“Nonu, that’s. . . that’s a lot of money. Are you sure you can actually pay that much and not go broke?”

 

“My trust fund,” Wonwoo explained. “I’m uh, not really supposed to say how much money it has in it, but I’ve got enough, I’ll say that. But there’s no way I could take out that much money at once without my entire family and my father’s financial advisor getting some sort of email or notification from the bank. Plus, there’s a daily limit.”

 

“How about just a little bit a day? You got a plan for that?”

 

“Kinda. My mother’s birthday is in about a week and I’m planning on saying I was buying her a painting. She collects them. The uglier the better, they’re all over our penthouse.”

 

“But if you say you’re buying her a paint, you know you gotta actually do it, right?”

 

Wonwoo nodded. “There’s a gallery she used to really like before the owner passed away. He was old with cancer, so it’s not too regretful. Anyways, the owner’s daughter. . . during my freshman year, I kinda had a thing with her. It didn’t work out but we’re still friends. Acquaintances would be the word I would use. I’m gonna try to get a painting from her for a lower price or maybe free if everything works out.”

 

Mingyu raised an eyebrow. “You said. . . it didn’t work out, right? How did it end?”

 

Wonwoo shrugged. “Well, I—hey, are you jealous?”

 

Flustered, Mingyu took a step back from their close proximity. “Nuh—no, just curious. I didn’t know you went both ways, Nonu.”

 

“I don’t care about gender,” Wonwoo explained before continuing. “You still wanna know how it ended?”

 

Even though it was relatively dark in the changing room, Wonwoo could see Mingyu blushing, illuminated by the lights around his mirror. He was nodding, not making eye contact. Definitely jealous.

 

Wonwoo smiled. “I drifted apart from her. After her father died, she started grieving and shut me out. I didn’t blame her—I mean, if my mom died, I would be the same way. I just stopped thinking about her and stopped having feelings for her after she was finished grieving. I realized that if I couldn’t wait for her, I shouldn’t be dating her in the first place so I broke up with her.”

 

“So she never said she fell out of love with you?”

 

Wonwoo shrugged. “Not officially, no. It’s been a while so I assumed she would’ve. I checked up on her every few months to see how she was doing so we stayed in touch. . . in a way. Do you have any past relationship stories?” Wonwoo asked, changing the subject.

 

“No,” Mingyu whispered, pushing Wonwoo on the couch and latching his lips onto Wonwoo’s neck.

 

Wonwoo pushed him off gently. “Come on, Mingyu. I know you’re lying. Someone as pretty as you? Never had a relationship? Bullshit.”

 

Mingyu sighed and took a seat next to Wonwoo on the couch. Wonwoo laid across Mingyu’s thighs, resting his head on a pillow as Mingyu ran his fingers through Wonwoo’s hair, his back resting on the couch.

 

“Well. . . I never told you this part of my life. I lived in Mexico for about half a year when I was sixteen. It was for my dad. We were only there ‘cause he had a ton of meetings ‘n shit, and it was too expensive to keep flying to Acapulco and back, so we just stayed there for a little bit. So, I—”

 

“Wait, so you can speak Spanish, Gyu?”

 

Mingyu nodded. “Course I speak Spanish. My dad made me learn it since his favorite cartels spoke it and if the bosses came over to Korea, I would have to entertain them for a little if he couldn’t. The number of older men that like lap-dances from sixteen-year-old Korean boys. . . it’ll blow you away.”

 

“Say something in Spanish.”

 

“Can you speak it?”

 

Wonwoo whistled. “I can speak Korean, Mandarin, and Malay, I can’t speak Spanish. Too hard, and I can’t roll my r’s. Say something.”

 

“ _Estoy enamorado de ti_.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“It means you have pretty lips.”

 

Wonwoo smiled and pulled Mingyu in for another kiss. “Say something else, I like how it sounds.”

 

“You won’t even let me finish my story!” Mingyu protested. “You asked about it anyway.”

 

Wonwoo snickered. “Okay, _then_ you can speak Spanish.”

 

“Okay,” Mingyu agreed. “So, one of the officials. . . he had this son. Half Chinese, half Mexican. He was really handsome and he was my age, and I really. . . I really liked him. We would be together whenever we could, but then I had to go back to Korea. And I lost my feelings for him, ‘cause I had to go back to school and there were more problems, and then my dad started getting busier, so I started stripping for myself and I just. . . forgot about him, I guess. I bet he forgot about me too. It was kinda like a summer fling, only for six months.”

 

“Is it my turn to be jealous?” Wonwoo asked, only half-joking.

 

“No, honestly. I didn’t think about him until you asked about my past relationships.” 

 

Wonwoo reached up and took Mingyu’s cheek. “Can you say something else in Spanish, Gyu?”

 

Mingyu pressed his lips to Wonwoo’s. “If you like it so much, learn the language yourself.”

 

“ _Hable_ ,” Wonwoo commanded, a smile dancing on his face.

 

Mingyu’s eyes widened. “You. . . I thought you said you couldn’t speak it?”

 

“Only a tiny bit,” Wonwoo explained.

 

“So you. . . you understood me?”

 

“No,” Wonwoo said. “Just say something else please!”

 

Wonwoo felt Mingyu exhale, almost in relief. “I should’ve known, from your shitty grammar.” “

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“You wish.”

 

“Just speak, goddamit.”

 

“Okay. _Gracias por un noche maravilloso, quiero estar contigo para siempre._ ”

 

“What does that mean, Gyu? All I understood was thank you.”

 

“It means thank you for your time. It also means I have to go now, or else Jihoon will beat my ass.” He kissed Wonwoo once again before leaving. 

 

Wonwoo watched him leave, eyes tracing each motion. Mingyu had never taken off his harness, never slipped on a shirt. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Mingyu’s skin had felt under his fingers, the way he’d curled into his touch. His brain raced with thoughts, one slightly louder than the others. Had Mingyu translated his Spanish wrong on purpose? Wonwoo knew Spanish sentences were similar to those of English, and he’d taken English for four years in school. If you wanted to compliment someone’s features, it would be a little longer than two words. Or at least, that was what he thought. Just then, his phone buzzed.

 

_Unknown Number: Time is ticking, Jeon. The check needs to be written._

 

Wonwoo’s heart sank before typing in a message.

 

_wonwoo: i can’t take out that much money at once. tell me where you want it sent, i’ll send multiple different checks._

 

_Unknown Number: Each check must be 2 million won at least. Send them to PO Box XXX in KPS 1588-1300. The first one must be in by midnight this Wednesday and the second must be in by this Friday. Once we have those checks, the dates will continue until it is all paid off and then we will forget the image._

_wonwoo: why are you doing this??_

 

After that text, they didn’t reply. It was a few minutes before Wonwoo decided that they weren’t going to reply to trivial questions like their reasoning. He wished he could know who was doing this or their motivation behind it—it was 2018 and people still had time to do such things? He knew he might never know.

 

He sat up in the bed, and then his phone began to buzz. The caller ID read none other than _Minatozaki Sana_. It was a little past one in the morning—what could she possibly be calling about?

 

“Sana?” He tried to sound groggy as if he’d just woken up, but it was too no avail.

 

_“Wonwoo! We’ve been trying to find you for hours!”_

 

Electricity ran through Wonwoo’s veins. “Wuh—what?”

 

_“Yeah, why haven’t you pick up my calls? Your father and I just got back to the penthouse, he was able to use my family’s helicopter for international travel.”_

 

The Minatozaki helicopter was one of the family’s most prized possessions. It had cost them billions of won, much more than the Jeon family’s helicopter and they were very picky about who got to use it. Typically, nobody but a Minatozaki could use it, and they could only use it in Japan. Jeon being able to ride it with Sana back would be a big step to joint corporations, but that wasn’t Wonwoo’s problem right now.

 

“I. . . I’ll be home soon.”

 

_“Wait. . . Wonwoo, are you sure you wanna come back? You’re father’s very angry, you might be better just staying in a hotel for the night. . .”_

 

“Just. . . just wait there, I’ll be back soon.”

 

\--

 

Wonwoo hailed a taxi quickly, not even bothering to say goodbye. He was about to get in when somebody stopped him.

 

“Nonu! Where’re you goin’?” It was Chan.

 

Wonwoo ran his fingers through his hair. “I have to get home. I’m sorry. Someone needs me.”

 

“Well you should think about comin’ back tomorrow. Minnie’s been hella happier tonight than before, and I think you’re the reason. Come back soon, willya?”

 

Wonwoo smiled and nodded. “Sure. Good night, Channie.”

 

“Night, Nonu.”

 

Wonwoo stepped into the taxi and spoke the words quickly. “Jeon Suites.”

 

He had a strange feeling though—a feeling of dread washing over him. He couldn’t explain it, but he found himself fidgeting with his fingers throughout the ride. His stomach twisted itself in a knot and butterflies went wild within. He pursed his lips and one of his legs shook in impatience. The taxi driver slowed as he got closer to the street Wonwoo lived on. And that was when he felt his whole world crash down.

 

There were police cars lining the streets, red and blue lights flashing, and the entrance to Jeon Suites was roped off with ominous yellow caution tape.

 

“Are you sure you’re supposed to be here?” the taxi driver asked, tone wavering.

 

Wonwoo could feel himself paling. “Yuh—yes. Thank you.” He shoved a crumpled pile of bills in the taxi driver’s face, not bothering to count them. Then, he got out.

 

To say it was chaos was an understatement—the building had been evacuated and dozens, maybe even hundreds of pajama-clad men, women, and children, not to mention a few clubbers from the surrounding clubs, standing outside, whispering to themselves. Policemen stood outside the front, blocking off a crowd of news reporters with their cameras flashing. Wonwoo pushed through the crowd and listened to the reporters, heart flying.

 

“. . .According to the rumors of the passerby, there’s been a murder committed in the Jeon Suites tonight, about half an hour ago. Law enforcements are staying quiet, but many speculate it could be Jeon himself committed suicide.”

 

Wonwoo could feel his heart drop and his dinner rising in his throat. He rushed forward, ducking under the caution tape, trying to get into the house.

 

“Whoa kid, where do you think you’re going?”

 

“My name is Jeon Wonwoo, this is my father’s building! Tell me what happened!” He tried to push around the policeman, but he didn’t budge.

 

“Prove it, kid,” the policeman prompted. “Detective!”

 

A man dressed in a police uniform walked over quickly. “Who’s this, Choi?”

 

“Kid says he’s Jeon’s son. Jeon Wonwoo.”

 

The detective held up a newspaper to Wonwoo’s face, analyzing it. It was certainly a past cover highlighting Wonwoo’s mistakes and criticizing his family. It was an easy and quick way to prove Wonwoo’s identity in the chaos, however. “It’s him,” the detective said. “My name’s Detective Park. Come with me kid, I got some bad news, I’m sorry.”

 

“What is it?” Wonwoo asked, his voice shaking. “Did. . . did my dad die?”

 

Park shook his head, leading Wonwoo into the lobby and sitting down on a couch. Wonwoo sat across from him, his hands shaking.

 

“See, we think your father committed homicide within this building.”

 

“Homicide?” Wonwoo’s breathing quickened, now he really felt like he was gonna throw up. 

 

“Yes. There was a 119 call made to our station at about 1:15 AM. Since you’re immediate family, you’ve got clearance to view it. . . if you want. If you don’t want, I can just tell—”

 

“Lemme hear it,” Wonwoo cut in, trying to steady himself. “Puh. . . please.”

 

Park nodded and gave Wonwoo a phone. There was just one thing on it—a recording with the title _1:13 AM, Jeon Suites, Gangnam-gu_. With shaky fingers, Wonwoo pressed play.

 

 _“119!”_ His mother’s voice. _“Send someone to Jeon Suites quick, my husband’s gone crazy! He’s got a gun, he’s trying to shoot me!”_ And then, it went static.

 

“Do you recognize that name?” Park asked quietly, taking the phone back from a shaken Wonwoo.

 

“My—my mother. That’s my mother.”

 

Park motioned to the receptionist desk, where there were two female police officers trying to comfort a crying woman with her face buried in her palms.

 

Wonwoo jumped up instantly. He rushed over to the desk. “Mom!”

 

The woman, his mother, howled, wrapping her arms around her son tightly. “Wonwoo,” she sobbed. 

 

“What happened?” Wonwoo asked, still hugging her. “Why are there police here?”

 

His mother sniffed. “Wonwoo. . . Sana. It was Sana.”

 

Wonwoo couldn’t listen anymore. He pulled away and ran around the receptionist desk where he threw up his dinner and lunch and just about everything in between. His mind was blank, the only thing he could think about was his mother’s words. _Sana. It was Sana._

 

“Wonwoo.”

 

Wonwoo felt his tears spill over into the trash can. “Mom. What the hell happened?”

 

“Jeon. . . Wonwoo you know about my, um. . . my drugs?”

 

Wonwoo nodded. “He didn’t. . .”

 

“He was angry at you for not being home.” His mother’s voice cracked. “And. . . he slammed the painting. It fell down and. . . he was so angry. . . he tried to kill me, but Sana took it. . . Wonwoo, I’m so sorry.”

 

So this was the dread he’d felt on the way to his penthouse. This was the reason he’d felt so worried, the reason why he couldn’t sit still or focus on the taxi driver’s questions. Sana was dead. And it was his fault.

 

\--

 

Mingyu woke up a little earlier than usual. It was nine, he’d only gotten five hours of sleep, but he didn’t care. He wished he’d said good-bye to Wonwoo before he left, seemingly in a hurry the previous night. Chan had told him that something had come up and Wonwoo needed to be somewhere, but Mingyu still had an uneasy feeling about the whole situation.

 

He decided to go over to Minghao’s. Minghao was his ex, but they were still close friends, it just hadn’t worked out. He knocked on Minghao’s door quickly—his trailer was only a ten-minute walk away.

 

Minghao opened the door groggily. “Ming. . . yu? What’re you doing here so early?”

 

“It’s nine, it’s not that early. Can I come in?”

 

Minghao opened the door a little wider, letting Mingyu enter. Mingyu caught sight of a shirtless Junhui sleeping in the bed across from the door and averted his eyes quickly—Minghao had a very public love with Junhui but he still preferred not to involve himself in Minghao’s sex life. 

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Am I okay? Why wouldn’t I be?” Mingyu asked, slipping off his jacket and hanging it up on the rack next to the door.

 

Minghao rubbed his eye tiredly and then held up a newspaper. “Look. You didn’t see?” He pointed aggressively to the headline as if it would help Mingyu read it.

 

 _MINATOZAKI SANA FOUND DEAD IN JEON SUITES, JEON HIMSELF PRIME SUSPECT_.

 

“Is this true?” Mingyu asked, snatching the newspaper, eyes scanning over the article intensely.

 

_A little past 1 AM last night, a 119 call was made from Jeon Suites by the wife of Mr. Jeon. She reported that her husband had a gun and was threatening to shoot her due to unclear reasons. According to sources, Mr. Jeon, however, fatally shot his eldest son’s girlfriend, daughter of the Japanese clothing empire, Minatozaki Sana._

 

“Probably. Why would they lie about this?”

 

Mingyu looked at the article and back at Minghao multiple times as if Minghao would be able to change the words on the page. “I have to go,” he said hurriedly.

 

“Gyu, you just got here—”

 

“Tell Junhui I said good morning,” Mingyu said, ignoring him as he shoved on his jacket. He left without another word, leaving a dumbfounded Minghao in the middle of the trailer.

 

Mingyu dialed Wonwoo’s number on his phone and when Wonwoo didn’t pick up, Mingyu sent him a hurried text, a mess of typos.

 

_mingyu: whre are ou? ar you alrigt?_

 

Wonwoo didn’t respond, which, while Mingyu had been expecting no response, still sent a shiver down Mingyu’s spine. Mingyu hailed a taxi when he couldn’t run any more and rode it down to the electric streets of Gangnam-gu. Then, he sprinted down the sidewalks, ignoring the tsks of annoyance by the passerby. Once he finally got to Jeon Suites, however, he saw it was roped off by yellow caution tape and a flurry of reporters from the night before, speaking into their black microphones, updating the entirety of Seoul about the status of their most esteemed, wealthiest investment empire.

 

Mingyu tried to duck under the tape as if he was meant to be there but was stopped by a tall male policeman.

 

“Excuse me sir, this is a crime scene, no citizens are allowed,” the policeman said, holding Mingyu’s shoulder from behind, so Mingyu’s back was to him.

 

“I’m a friend of the Jeons,” Mingyu explained. It wasn’t a complete lie. “I need to see them.”

 

“I’m sorry,” the policeman apologized but it wasn’t genuine. “We have strict orders to let no one in aside from the detectives. And a little tip—they aren’t in their penthouse.”

 

“Can you tell me where they are?”

 

The policeman shook his head. “Beats me. And even if I knew, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Scram, kid.”

 

_They’re not here._

 

Mingyu ducked back under the caution tape after giving a half-hearted thank you to the police officer. He wracked his brain for possible places any of the Jeons could be—just finding one would be lucky. They could be together—Wonwoo and his mother—or apart. Maybe they were with his father, who might be standing in a holding cell or under some sort of arrest. Just then, it hit him. He knew exactly where Wonwoo was.

 

\--

 

The elevator ride up to the roof of Apego was longer than Mingyu remembered. He thought he had definitely gotten comfortable with the amount of time it had taken to get to the roof from the times he had gone there with Wonwoo, but it seemed to take much, much longer when it was important. Making out with Wonwoo hadn’t been especially important compared to now.

 

Finally, the elevator doors opened with a _ding!_ and Mingyu stepped out, wind tossing up his dark hair and hindering his vision as he looked right and left for the older boy. “Jeon Wonwoo!”

 

Just then, a sniffle. “Gyuh—Gyu?”

 

Mingyu followed the noise to where Jeon Wonwoo was sitting right next to the elevator, knees pulled to his chest, back against the wall, and eyes clouded and puffy with crying. 

 

“Oh my God, Wonwoo,” Mingyu cursed, sinking down to his knees. He enveloped Wonwoo in a hug and Wonwoo’s body shook with what Mingyu figured were sobs.

 

“I’m. . . I’m sorry,” Wonwoo whispered. “I should’ve responded to your calls and texts.”

 

“Don’t apologize,” Mingyu chided. “You’ve gone through so much. It’s okay to not want to be alone. I can leave if you want, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He stood up and then felt Wonwoo grab his sleeve.

 

“No,” he said and his voice cracked. Mingyu could feel his heart breaking at the sight. “Please stay, Gyu.”

 

“Okay.” Mingyu took a seat next to Wonwoo and let the elder rest his head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around him protectively. Wonwoo gave in and closed his eyes against Mingyu’s chest, his tears staining Mingyu’s shirt. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

 

“Thank you,” Wonwoo whispered. 

 

Mingyu ran his hands through Wonwoo’s hair and pressed a kiss to Wonwoo’s forehead. “Of course. Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“It was my fault,” Wonwoo murmured, and another tear hit Mingyu’s chest. “If I had just waited until she got home with my dad, this wouldn’t have happened. . .”

 

“Shh,” Mingyu murmured into Wonwoo’s hair. “It’s not your fault. It wasn’t you who committed the crime, was it?”

 

“But I was the reason—”

 

“Nonu,” Mingyu interrupted, a little harsher than he intended. “Did you pull the trigger?”

 

“No, but—”

 

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Mingyu said. “Don’t blame yourself for things that aren’t your fault. Understand?”

 

Wonwoo wrapped his arms around Mingyu’s torso. “Okay. Mingyu, something else happened.” He buried his face in Mingyu’s shirt, muffling his quiet and timely sobs.

 

“What is it?”

 

“The blackmailer,” Wonwoo whispered. “I found out who they were.”

 

“Who?”

 

“It was the Minatozakis.” Mingyu felt Wonwoo’s fist curl around a handful of his shirt. “They. . . they didn’t tell. . . Sana never knew ‘cause they knew she would never agree to it, she had feelings for me. . . they were only using me as a resource for money and. . . they hired someone to follow me around and take compromising pictures of me to blackmail me with. They told me once Sana passed away at my father’s hands because they can get compensation for her death and funeral. They didn’t have a use for me so they came clean. They used both of us.”

 

“Oh Nonu. . .” Mingyu’s voice trailed off. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Wonwoo sniffed. “It’s okay.” After a moment of silence, Wonwoo spoke up again. “Mingyu, tell me something honestly.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“What did you really say in Spanish?”

 

Mingyu swallowed. “I said what I said.”

 

“I know you’re lying. Tell me honestly, Gyu,” Wonwoo said, turning his head a bit so he could look Mingyu in the eyes.

 

Mingyu bit his lower lip for a moment. “Promise you won’t get angry?”

 

“Promise.”

 

“I said I’m in love with you. And then I said I want to be with your forever.” Mingyu rested his head on top of Wonwoo’s. “And it’s true. I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Wonwoo confessed. “But I can’t. I’m leaving, Gyu.”

 

“Leaving? Wuh—where are you going?”

 

Another tear hit Mingyu’s shirt. “Tioman Island in Malaysia. We’ve got a remote vacation house there, I’m gonna live on my own. Maybe use up the money in my trust fund and then get a job or something. My mother wants me to go, she’s making me. It’s not safe for me here in Korea. My brother called earlier after the whole incident. He’s staying in the States, gonna live with his new girlfriend and her mother. I have to go.”

 

“Let me go with you.” It was compulsory and Mingyu wanted to slap himself after the words came out of his mouth. He hadn’t planned, hadn’t spoken to his father, hadn’t done anything. At this point, his _heart_ was the one talking, not his head. “Puh—please,” he said, a little quieter.

 

“But Gyu. . .”

 

“With your help, I can pay my father’s bail and we can live together in Malaysia. You said you can speak Malay, you can teach me. We can do something in the tourism industry, it’ll be okay.”

 

“It’s so sudden,” Wonwoo began. “To be honest. . . I would love it if you could be with me. I’m sorry Gyu, I’ve got so much on my plate, I just. . . need some time to think about it. I leave in a week.”

 

Mingyu kissed Wonwoo on the lips again tenderly, praying it wouldn’t be his last. “Even if you leave without me, I’ll still love you. Okay?”

 

“I love you,” Wonwoo whispered and nestled back against Mingyu’s chest, and they stayed like that for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the last, thank you for reading! Also a disclaimer - Spanish is not my first language, I am going off of what I learned in school, apologies!


	10. Epilogue

_Three Years Later_

 

Wonwoo wasn’t completely lost in his thoughts. Only a little bit. In his lap, he had a Malay translation of _The Catcher in the Rye_ but it was quite easy to get distracted by the scenery. He was sitting on a beautiful white sand beach in Tioman Island, shaded from the sun by the manufactured palm tree above his chair. It was a lovely, cloudless day, with a comforting beach breeze that blew against the pages of the book and played with Wonwoo’s chestnut hair and tangling it in the pair of sunglasses resting on the top of his head.

 

His little boutique hotel didn’t have any guests—the last ones, an old British couple that spoke no Malay—had left earlier this morning, and there were a few families and a honeymooning couple that was scheduled to come in tomorrow and late tonight for a collective weeks’ stay. It wasn’t like there were a particular amount of things to do around this part of Tioman, it was rather remote, other than a dock leading out to the crystalline ocean, there was a small coral reef that Wonwoo found tourists loving, so naturally, he bought snorkel and scuba supplies they could rent out for a day or two. There were only a few grocery stores within a three-mile radius, a product of a small town farther inland, so Wonwoo received most of his food and supplies from different suppliers that he invested in.

 

It hadn’t always been this serene. In the early weeks of the hotel, Wonwoo had caught wind of a Minatozaki hitman in southeast Asia searching for him, leading to a panicked Wonwoo changing his name. He wasn’t entirely sure about changing his name completely, but if he truly was going to escape his troubles back in Korea, and the Minatozaki’s hitmen, he would need a blank slate. He settled on Kim Nimgyo. It was a rather ugly, uncommon name with no real meaning or significance. However, it wouldn’t stand out in a list and it was a name the Minatozakis wouldn’t look for and plus, it had its own personal significance for Wonwoo himself. He was Nimgyo in Malaysia, or sometimes Nasir for the guests that had trouble pronouncing the Korean. He had left “Wonwoo” behind, and nobody called him by that name anymore.

 

“Wonwoo!”

 

Except for one. Mingyu.

 

A few days before Wonwoo had left for Malaysia, he had caved—he bailed Mingyu’s father out with his trust fund money and told Mingyu to meet him at the airport. Mingyu was there within an hour. Then, he took the Jeon private jet to Tioman and gave the pilot some money to go home and sell the jet before it could be revoked by law enforcement when his father was imprisoned. The pilot, satisfied with the money Wonwoo had given him, deposited the cash from the jet into Wonwoo’s account and he’d also transferred billions of won from Jeon’s account to Wonwoo’s (under his account of his new persona, by the name _Kim Nimgyo_ ), so they were set financially, not to mention the less-than-constant flow of revenue from their newly-built, five-bedroom boutique hotel, complete with a balcony and breathtaking view. Wonwoo cut off most of his connection with his family—his father, he figured, was in jail for a very long time. The Minatozaki family was very powerful, and they wouldn’t be satisfied until the man that murdered their daughter was in jail for as long as possible. Returning to Korea hadn’t ever crossed Wonwoo’s mind since he arrived in Malaysia—being in Korea wasn’t safe, and plus, this was paradise. He was in paradise and finally, he was freely happy.

 

“Mingyu, good morning,” Wonwoo replied, not taking his eyes off of the pages. Nearly three years of living in Malaysia and using his Malay should’ve taught him how to read in the language, but he still found it difficult and preferred reading Korean or Mandarin books instead. Thus, he couldn’t really keep his focus on a delinquent boy going through high school in 1950s America. Especially not when Mingyu walked pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek after sinking down to his height in the chair.

 

Mingyu hadn’t changed all that much—he was still tall and handsome, with bright eyes and dark raven hair and large canines that charmed every woman that stayed in the hotel. His skin was tanner, but so was Wonwoo’s, as living in an island paradise caused their skin to darken to a soft, sunkissed tone. The biggest thing that had changed was their relationship.

 

About a year ago, Wonwoo decided he wanted to marry Mingyu. However, he was a registered Malaysian citizen with the persona of a Korean expat, and a man marrying another man wasn’t necessarily allowed. Plus, Wonwoo never told Mingyu of his intentions, he was much too scared of his reaction. So, he kept them to himself and mentally “pretended” they were married. Sometimes, he helped Mingyu cook dinner for the guests if needed. They took walks on the beach at sunset and exchanged gifts. They called it “making love” instead of “fucking”. They slept in the same bed and kissed when the guests weren’t looking and told each other almost everything. Essentially, Wonwoo liked to think he was married. He was 22 and Mingyu 21, and he did truly love his life at this moment.

 

“What is it? Did they come early or something?”

 

“No.” Mingyu shook his head. “Someone’s here to see you.”

 

“Who? It’s not. . . is it my mother?”

 

“It’s a man,” Mingyu explained. “I um, don’t really know him. But he said he was looking for you, he said your real name too so that’s how I knew he wasn’t someone working for the local government or something. He speaks Korean.”

 

“About how old?”

 

“Probably late teens or early twenties. I can come with you if you like.”

 

Wonwoo shook his head. He slipped a bookmark in his book and handed it to Mingyu. “Just. . . just stay here, don’t listen.”

 

Mingyu’s face fell slightly as he took Wonwoo’s book. “But what if it’s serious?”

 

“If it’s serious, I’ll tell you,” Wonwoo assured as he stood up. He watched Mingyu give a reluctant gaze as he took Wonwoo’s seat but Wonwoo just gave him a reassuring smile and walked up the stone pathway through the palm trees, past the dining patio, and into the hotel through the open sliding-glass door. The man was sitting with his back facing Wonwoo. Wonwoo took his sunglasses from his forehead and slipped them in the hem of his white collared shirt, so they hung from the unbuttoned collar just below his chest.

 

“Can I help you sir?” he asked in Malay. He wasn’t sure if the stranger wanted to speak Malay or if he, in fact, _could_ actually speak Malay. He knew Mingyu had said he spoke Korean but after years of greeting Malaysian guests, Wonwoo had been accustomed to asking them if they needed anything in Malay—it was a force of habit.

 

“Speak Korean, Wonwoo.”

 

Wonwoo’s heart nearly stopped when he saw the man’s face as he turned around.

 

 _Jeon Bohyuk_.

 

“Buh—Bohyuk? What’re you doing here?”

 

“I needed to find you,” Bohyuk explained, a small smile painted on the younger’s face. “And don’t call me Bohyuk, I go by Owen now. Owen Lee.”

 

“Owen Lee? What about Jeon?”

 

Bohyuk laughed. “You’re one to talk, Kim Nimgyo. What the fuck kinda name is that anyway?”

 

“What the fuck kinda name is Owen Lee?” Wonwoo retorted. “Why is everything different about you, you were Bohyuk while you were in high school, weren’t you?”

 

“By the end of high school, I decided I wanted to stay,” Bohyuk explained. “I changed my name during my sophomore year of high school because I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to go back to Korea at the time. I was just an afterthought in Korea—you were gonna take Daddy’s business anyway, you were the only one he cared about. He only talked about me so well because he knew I would never take over the business. And then when I heard about his incident with your fake girlfriend Sana, that was it and I applied for a citizenship when I turned 18. I speak Korean with an American accent and I prefer fries over kimchi. I write better in English than Hangul, and I don’t associate with Korea or the Jeon family at all. This is the only time I’m gonna talk to you before heading back to Seattle. And don’t try to contact me either, I don’t want anything to do with you.”

 

“Has Mom gotten ahold of you?” Wonwoo asked, trying to ignore the fact that Bohyuk had completely rejected his Korean family, which he was a part of, for an American lifestyle. With good reason of course—Wonwoo had done a similar thing, but he’d done it for his own safety. If he kept the name _Jeon Wonwoo_ , it would’ve been all too easy for the Minatozakis to find him. Bohyuk had done it for his own reputation.

 

“She told me where to find you,” Bohyuk explained. “I don’t know where she called me from. Somewhere in the Philippines I’d guess, but I think after Daddy was put in jail, she left Korea with nowhere to go. She didn’t want to lure the Minatozakis to you here in Malaysia and didn’t wanna expose me to my new family in America.”

 

“New family? You replaced everyone?”

 

“My girlfriend. She’s a month pregnant and we’re getting married next week,” Bohyuk said. If there was a hint of pride in his voice, Wonwoo couldn’t detect it.

 

“You’re not here to ask me to come, are you? After all that?”

 

Bohyuk whistled. “If you show up, I’ll call the police. ‘Cause if you go to a country the Minatozakis know, they’ll send people to find you and then they’ll find me. So don’t think about coming anywhere near the West ever.”

 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Wonwoo hissed. “Why the fuck did you even come here?”

 

“Daddy’s gone,” Bohyuk said without hesitation.

 

“Gone? Whaddaya mean “gone”? Did he escape that prison?”

 

Bohyuk shook his head. “No. He died in jail. They said it was a stroke.”

 

“Dead?” For some reason, Wonwoo didn’t feel the same mixture of heartache and denial wash over him like when he learned Sana had died. His father had _killed_ Sana and mistreated Wonwoo all his life, not to mention unintentionally making Bohyuk feel unwanted. Throughout his life, Bohyuk had been the model sibling that his father always reminded Wonwoo of, but it was the reason Bohyuk decided to study abroad—he didn’t like being just a comparison to live up to while knowing he would amount to anything in his adulthood when Jeon was gone. So Wonwoo felt no true remorse. “And that’s all you needed to tell me?”

 

“Yeah,” Bohyuk responded venomously. “It’s all ‘cause you didn’t bother to get Mom’s fucking phone number before jetting off to an unknown Indonesian island—”

 

“Malaysian.”

 

“Malaysian, whatever, that I had to leave my three-month-pregnant fiancé alone in our apartment in Seattle to fly out to meet your lazy ass, out piggybacking off Daddy’s money in Malaysia. Fucking indifferent dickhead.”

 

Wonwoo felt his blood boil. “What the fuck did you just call me?” he asked in a low tone.

 

“Indifferent dickhead,” Bohyuk stated firmly, brows furrowing. “You got your fucking pilot or whoever to transfer Daddy’s cash to your brand-new bank account and now you’ve got this sexy place in the middle of nowhere to live with your hot boyfriend while Mom’s gone and Daddy’s dead. I’m sure the Minatozakis will find you and Mom anyway.” Bohyuk stood up and that was enough.

 

Wonwoo punched his younger brother hard in the cheek.

 

Reeling, Bohyuk touched his tender cheek in disbelief, eyes shifting from his palm, stained with droplets of blood from the broken skin, to his brother, gaze quickly turning to rage.

 

Bohyuk lunged for Wonwoo. “Fucking douche!” He punched Wonwoo hard across the face, just missing his nose. It was lucky, Wonwoo’s nose would’ve been broken for sure and the closest hospital was a two-hour drive away.

 

Wonwoo fell back, stumbling upon the blow. He tasted blood in his mouth and swept his tongue across his lower lip to catch it, as the blow had cut his lip. When his dizziness stopped, he saw Bohyuk looking to throw another punch. He blocked it with his arms, wincing as his younger brother’s knuckles skimmed his wrist.

 

“Woah woah woah!” 

 

Wonwoo turned around to see Mingyu, pushing Bohyuk off of him and separating the brothers and holding his hands out on either side of him to keep them apart.

 

“Sir, I think you should leave,” Mingyu said in a quiet voice as Wonwoo and Bohyuk caught their breath.

 

Bohyuk set his jaw with a furious expression. “Don’t ever think about crossing the Pacific,” he hissed. “Hell, don’t even leave Asia. I’ll fucking have you arrested and you’ll end up just like Daddy.” Then, he stalked out of the lobby and Mingyu didn’t move until he heard the slam of a car door.

 

“Who the fuck—”

 

“My brother,” Wonwoo explained, wiping off some blood from the bottom of his lip. “Jeon Bohyuk. He lives in the States and he’s completely left his Korean side behind. He goes by Owen Lee now and doesn’t want to think about our family at all.”

 

“Then what was he doing here?”

 

“My father. He died in prison,” Wonwoo said blankly. He didn’t really feel any emotions—he hadn’t felt any love for his father, not like the kind of love he’d felt towards his mother and Sana. He liked to think Sana was his sister, like the little sister to replace Bohyuk when he went away to America. And, while he hadn’t formed a normal mother-son bond, he did care about his mother and protected her when he could. He felt love for them but not for his father. Sometimes he wondered if that made him a bad son, so he tried to love his father but it always went away when Jeon hit him or his mother. 

 

“Wonwoo, I’m—”

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Wonwoo said. “I’m not. Just. . . can we forget it? We’ve still got one more room to prepare.”

 

\--

 

Wonwoo had finished cleaning the bathroom and Mingyu was tucking in the bed when the sun finally started setting. Typically, it didn’t take that long to prepare a room with the both of them, and usually, they would hire someone from the nearby town to do it, but they didn’t today. They had just taken a short break that ended up becoming a few hours too long, that _maybe_ consisted of them going up to the balcony and making out for a bit. They were still young, and still in love.

 

“Finished?” Wonwoo asked. He began to straighten some curtains hanging messily from the wide window next to the bed.

 

Mingyu bit his lower lip as he forced the sheet into a corner. “Just about. These goddamn sheets. . . they’re too small. Fucking hell. . .”

 

Wonwoo chuckled. “Do you need help?”

 

“No, I got it.” Mingyu stepped back and exhaled in relief. “Hey Nonu?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Why did you fight with your brother? I mean, I know he broke the news but—”

 

“He called me a dickhead and said I was piggybacking off of my father’s money. It’s bullshit—we’ve got a lot of money but I’m working and earning my own money. He’s completely rejected our family. . .”

 

“And?” Mingyu questioned as he knew there was more. Wonwoo’s back was turned to him but he could sense Mingyu was raising his eyebrow.

 

“He’s getting married in a week,” Wonwoo explained quietly. “And his fiance’s pregnant.”

 

“Why is that bad?”

 

“It’s just. . .” Wonwoo sighed. “When we were back in Korea, all of us, my dad said that Bohyuk must stay single in case a rich woman from another family happened to cross paths with ours. I was already set to be married to Sana at the time, but there wasn’t anyone for Bohyuk. And. . . he obeyed my father. He didn’t date. He was handsome and lots of girls liked him, but he rejected all of them. He valued family over everything and that was why my father preferred him. ‘Cause he could get away with confining Bohyuk to a box but not me.”

 

“Whaddaya mean?”

 

“I dated and Sana did too, outside of our relationship before she developed feelings for me,” Wonwoo said, smiling to himself as he recalled the memories. “I didn’t want to be confined so I kept it in secret. Girls and boys. Now I don’t remember any of them, but—”

 

“Marry me.”

 

Wonwoo stopped messing with the curtains. “Wuh—what?”

 

“It doesn’t have to be official,” Mingyu said. “I know it’s not legal but marry me.”

 

“Mingyu I. . .”

 

Mingyu walked over to where he was standing and wrapped his arms around Wonwoo’s waist, trailing kisses down the back of his neck. “Marry me, Nonu.”

 

“Okay.” Wonwoo turned around and pressed a long kiss to Mingyu’s lips. “Okay, I’ll marry you.”

 

Mingyu hugged Wonwoo gleefully. “Yay! We’re married!”

 

Wonwoo laughed and hugged him back. “We’re married.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the infinite love on this story! I was expecting to be a flop but oh well,, thank you so much for sticking with me, I love you all!


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